Painstaking
by GratefulInsomniac
Summary: Sequel to the short story "Aches and Pains." House's pain has been addressed and he wants to address Cuddy's as well. Season 3 AU.
1. Coming Home

_A/N-This is the short story sequel to Aches and Pains. (four chapters max). You probably need to read that short story to understand this one. I was relatively happy with how Aches came out, this one is a bit less serious, although I hope it's still enjoyable._

_So, this is still Season 3 alternate universe and follows directly after Aches and Pains  
_

_Thanks to Freya for providing some inspiration for this chapter, and I hope LapizSilkwood is a little less bored this Thursday (at least for the ten minutes it takes to read this chapter)._

_Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it!  
_

___Disclaimer-I still don't own the characters of House, MD, and there is still adult content throughout this story. This disclaimer applies to the whole story.  
_

* * *

-Coming Home-

After the majority of House's pain was addressed through the innovative and experimental pain procedure Cuddy enrolled him in, realities came crashing back into their lives quite quickly. Cuddy was trying to run PPTH remotely through phone and computer, a feat that was impressive, and virtually impossible to maintain for long. After brain surgery, it was imperative that House's wound stay dry and clean, and all trauma be avoided. The surgeon was concerned about withdrawal symptoms if Vicodin was removed too quickly, so they decided that he would remain at the research facility while the small wound in his head healed. During the extra time, he could work with a physical therapist and the staff at the hospital could monitor him as they weaned him off of opiates.

Cuddy, on the other hand, could not spend three more weeks away from the hospital. There were disagreements between department heads that it seemed only she could mediate, staffing problems that desperately needed her attention, and a lawyer who was becoming increasingly insistent on a settlement for a former patient. It seemed it was for the best. When she left House's bedside late one night, they parted with a quick kiss and a promise to meet at the airport upon his return.

Cuddy's return to the hospital came with a frenzy. She wasn't fifteen feet inside the door when requests were being made, forms were being handed to her, and folders of pending issues were being placed all around her. The familiarity and intensity of work helped her get accustomed to normal life again. She was fine during the day, working until eight or nine at night to repair any damage that was done in her absence. Nights offered more time to think. At night, when things were quiet, she wondered about exactly what was going to happen when House returned. She was looking forward to his return, and yet, part of her wondered if he'd return and feel their affair was a mistake.

One morning, a little more than three weeks after she returned to New Jersey, House called her to tell her he was coming home. Cuddy was going to pick him up at the airport the next evening.

Instantly there were questions, uncertainty rolled in with affection and excitement, a feeling they so often had in regards to each other. She had no idea how things would be between them. She felt it was equally possible that he'd end it with her after spending too much time alone thinking, or they'd fall into each other's arms as passionately as they had a few weeks earlier, or they'd sit in the weird limbo they found themselves in for years. She pondered, fretted, theorized in every peaceful moment that day. During her dinner break, she walked past his office, telling his fellows that he was expected back soon, and when she saw his desk she decided, she was going to put herself into this again.

She worked late that night, until well after midnight, trying to get caught up in the hopes that their reunion the next night would go well, and she would be prepared enough at work that she wouldn't have to come in early the following morning.

* * *

The flight was long, and House had the same mix of anticipation and worry that Cuddy did. It had been years since there had been a woman picking him up at the airport. He assumed all along that she'd be outside, circling in her car. When he got off of the plane, and went to the baggage claim to gather his things, his heart thudded with uncertain excitement at the sight of her standing by the baggage carousel. She was fidgeting, pushing her hair back from her face, standing nervously, rolling her cell phone between hands that were clasped high in front of her stomach as she looked around in search of a familiar face.

He walked steadily closer, not even entirely sure what he was going to say to her once he was close enough for her to hear him. When she finally saw him, she smiled as her eyes drank in all that was different about him. His hands were shoved in his pockets, since he no longer carried his cane. He found his right hand was almost constantly in his pocket, as if he wasn't sure how to behave if it was free to use.

"Hi," he said nervously when he came near.

"Hi," she answered with returned nervousness. "You look good. How do you feel?"

"Long flight, but good."

She smiled broadly at him, and it was as if he suddenly remembered himself, "Which lucky bastard are you here picking up?"

She smiled, nodded toward the door, "Come on, lucky bastard."

They got his luggage, his cane jutting awkwardly out of his bag. They walked to her car in silence, with subtle body flirts but no actual discussion. She opened the trunk and he threw his bag in and walked to the side of the car. They both got in, both shut their doors, still awkwardly silent as she put her key in the ignition. Behind them, cars were backed up as they tried to leave the garage. She turned to him, "Is it always going to be awkward. If I work late on Wednesdays, will we have to break the ice each time? Sit in insecure silence until we try to get a read on each other?"

He glanced at her, "Small talk is not my thing. I can't talk about _nothing_ if I'm busy thinking about _something_."

"What are you busy thinking about?" she asked, expecting the worst.

He took a deep breath, looking out the car window then back at her, "Hang on…I'm trying to warm up. Trying the normal thing. I read about this once. Talk about the weather, maybe,_ briefly_, ask about work. Then eventually, after some mutual welcome-homing…I could casually mention that…I…can't stop thinking about you."

He could see the energy running through Cuddy as she nodded, her fingers dancing along the buttons of the radio simply because it was there to touch. She paused, with thought, then said, "It's been warmer than usual, tomorrow it's supposed to rain. Work is...under control. They miss you there."

"Do they?"

"Yea"

"Do you?"

"Possibly," she smirked knowingly.

House nodded, "It _does_ feel warm…and I've actually missed work too. Well…parts of work."

"Now there was…one more step," she said, leaning closer across the seat, "Something between small talk about weather or work, and you thinking about me."

He smirked, he could actually feel her kissing him before she even got there. "You're right, there was something else, wasn't there? Another step?"

She nodded as he closed the remaining distance. His lips were parted slightly to capture hers, and she curled her tongue under his upper lip and felt his body almost pulse in response. In the next moment, her hand was along the upper part of his chest, grabbing a handful of shirt and pulling him closer. His one hand moved to cover hers, holding it tightly against him, the other slid up to her neck. They were kissing fully and slowly, tongues and breath mingling, lips sealing and pulling in ways that easily made them forget where they were.

"Maybe I do like small talk," he breathed when they parted.

"I don't know what book you read, but you're definitely good at it," she replied, smiling, closing the tiny distance again before returning to his mouth more eagerly.

His hand slipped under her arm, lifting her and pulling her over onto his lap. There was little room in her midsized car, but he needed to feel her closer to him. Her arms wrapped immediately around him, and he felt her automatically avoiding his right thigh. They really only had sex over a period of less than two weeks before they were separated by their circumstances, and she was already familiar with accommodating his disability. He couldn't help but smirk when he realized that he no longer needed to be accommodated.

She sighed, making the smallest approving moan, when his hand brushed against her side and his scruff rubbed along her neck. Finding her earlobe with his lips, he mumbled, "You don't have to worry."

"About?"

"My leg doesn't hurt," he said, shifting her roughly back so that her weight was distributed evenly on both legs.

"That doesn't hurt?" she said, pulling back as she asked.

His eyes met hers, almost happily, and found her lips again, his hand slipping under her shirt and feeling the span of her back, realizing that, in spite of the fear that things had somehow gone sour, he was probably going to have sex with her that night. After the obviously pleasant thoughts associated with having sex with her, were the possibilities of sleeping next to her, maybe even doing so on more than one night. Getting laid was amazing, but the realization that _this _might be the new normal was both exciting and strange.

His hand cupped her breast through her bra, feeling her nipple harden under his fingers, and he still felt surprised that she would so eagerly react to him. He pushed his fingers up under her bra, openly groaning at the feeling of her in his hand. She was breathing more quickly, and as her breath became more shallow, her kiss became more eager. He began to wonder what would happen if his hand left her breast and moved to her knee. Then he began to wonder what she would do if he moved his hand along her thigh, under her skirt. He felt a stab of excitement at the thought of letting his fingers slip past her panties to touch her unhindered.

As if reading his mind, she said in between sighs, "I'm not going to…have…sex with you in the parking garage."

"This is just the welcome home after small talk," he answered, "we'll schedule the sex for later."

Her hands were rubbing along his body, the occasional scratch of a fingernail on the fabric of his shirt felt oddly foretelling. She wriggled in his lap, her hand skimming along the waistband of his jeans, and she smiled as she felt how aroused he was already. From her spot on his lap he certainly couldn't hide that fact.

The loud blare of a car horn behind them, accompanied by a screaming and obviously angry man brought them to the moment. "I think he wants this space," Cuddy said, kissing House once more before sliding into her seat.

She pulled out of the spot and began the nearly hour long drive back to Princeton.

They were gone a few moments, and the next thing she knew, he said casually, "So, I'm taken care of…my missing chunk is still missing, obviously, but no longer painful or in any way debilitating."

"I'm really happy about that. I'm so excited for you."

"So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"I mean…what about what's missing for you. When are you gonna let me knock you up?"

Cuddy laughed with an awkward stutter, "Subtle, House. Let's talk about that some other time."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it's a complicated subject"

"It isn't really"

"It is. This is a human being we're talking about. This doesn't just impact me. It affects you, and our potential child."

"We'll be fine."

"As what? I tried to explain this to you simply, I can have you as a boyfriend or as a donor, I can't do both. It's messy."

"Fine, dump me," he said grumbled.

"What?" Cuddy asked, frustrated and angry. "You'd just drop me like that? Thanks, I'm glad I meant something to you for the ten minutes since you arrived back home."

"You were the one who said you can't do both. So that means if you don't have a kid, you'll always think that the reason _why_ you don't is because you have me. So it will be my fault you don't have one. Not only will I have failed to _help_ you in your need, I will actually be part of the reason why that need was never met. Predestined. Relationship. Failure."

Cuddy practically growled, roughly gripping the steering wheel.

He added casually, "So does that mean I have to jerk off in a cup, or can we have sex a few times for old time's sake…and obviously for procreational purposes."

"See, I can never figure out if you want me or if you just want to fuck me."

"I was going for all of the above. You were the one who decided it had to be a choice."

"You didn't listen. We've been over this. You are always looking for ways to prove that I'm saying I don't want you. You _want_ to hear me reject you…you look for it. Even when it isn't what I'm doing, just so you can be right."

"I'm not going to force you to choose between the baby you want and the guy you sort of want."

"I don't _sort of _want you. Would you actually listen…instead of automatically interpreting what I'm saying as a rejection?"

"You can try"

She huffed, and pulled off onto the shoulder of the I-95. Her car actually shifted to the side each time another car went past with a whoosh. "Thank you for being open minded and listening to what I'm actually saying," she said sarcastically.

He turned and looked at her, squeamishly. He was still expecting rejection. She wondered if he always would. "If you want, I'll get out. Call a cab."

"How is someone so brilliant…actually so stupid," she sighed, an irritated hand finding her creased forehead. "I was saying that if we have a relationship, I want a real one. I don't want you to have to tell the kid that you're mom's boyfriend, and the biological father, but you don't want to be the dad. That kid deserves you, I deserve you without arbitrary lines drawn to avoid bonds and connections. Trying to live half way in a relationship…now _that_ is one that's doomed to fail."

He looked at her, brow furrowed, confused. "You…want me to be a _dad_?"

"If you want to be…yes. If you don't want to be…I don't want you to do it for me, then you'll feel trapped. I can find an anonymous donor. Neither of us should have to sacrifice who we are to be together. That's why it's too soon."

"Like a normal…dad?" he clarified, as if the idea had never existed in the realm of possibility before.

"No, not a normal dad. A…you dad. I won't be a normal mother. I think I'll be good at it. I think I'm ready, but I don't think conventionality is our strong suit."

House nodded, still processing.

Cuddy patted his leg and continued, "This is a lot…for you…for me…we can't expect ourselves to make these huge decisions in an instant, but I can't do something half way. I don't operate that way. And I don't think you can either."

"So what do we do? What about what you need. What about avoiding your future resentment of me?"

"What if…we try to have a relationship? A real one. For six months. Let's see if we can make something work."

"You want a baby…"

"I do," she said. "I want a child…so badly. But I want to make the right decisions. Good decisions. Responsible decisions."

"If you and I work out, then we can do this together. If not, if it crashes and burns and we can't be…coupled…I'll donate. No relationship, no complications, just a donation. A gift."

"You don't have to do that."

"I will. I want to. So either way, if it is possible, you get your kid."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. You helped me. Let me help you. Let me do this for you."

She nodded. "You don't have to repay me."

"It is not repayment. It's selfish. I…don't want to have to see you hurt."

"OK," she said, feeling emotions in every corner of her body, "but we…agree not to talk about it for six months, or every single conversation will evolve into this same discussion."

"OK," he agreed.

She pulled back out onto the highway.

"Are we…going to your place?" he asked when they neared the exit.

"Oh…um…I thought so. I can take you back to yours tomorrow…if you want to stay with me tonight."

"Sure," he nodded.

"I just…assumed…"

They were silent again, both slightly uncertain. "So your leg. It feels good?" she asked.

"Yea," he answered. "I need to keep exercising it. It's still weaker than the other one."

"Maybe I could help you," she said, a tentative flirt. "Strength training, stretching, repeated tests of endurance."

He smirked, nodding, "That sounds promising. Probably better than the physical therapist they've had me working with."

"Everyone in Germany was gorgeous. Let me guess…young, tall, buxom, tight body…"

"Are you jealous of a physical therapist?" he chuckled.

"No, I'm glad you feel better. But I was just wondering who's had her hands all over you," she teased. They had no idea how much exclusivity was involved, or how deep the feelings really ran, so they searched for clues in teases and flirts.

"Well…definitely young and tall…extremely tight body…"

"See"

"I have to say though…Trent's breasts had nothing on you."

Cuddy smirked, "A guy?"

"Yes," House nodded. "Never even offered a happy ending."

"Bastard"

"Right!"

"Although…I was unaware that happy endings were common after PT."

"And after all of that strenuous work…"

He was smiling, enjoying the fact that they were laughing, that she seemed a little more disarmed, and he rarely saw her disarmed, nor felt so disarmed himself unless he was alone, in his apartment with his piano.

"Does anyone at the hospital know about us?" House asked.

"Did Wilson hunt you down, relentlessly fishing for answers in a way that only Wilson thinks is subtle, before finally pleading with you to tell him what's going on?"

House smirked and shook his head, "You know Jimmy, And…no he didn't."

"Then no one knows."

"Do we have to keep it a secret?

"I thought we agreed that I wasn't supposed to say anything," Cuddy answered.

"We did. What about now?"

"I will go to HR tomorrow. Make sure we're good. Apart from that…instead of some…big announcement, I thought we'd just…be ourselves. If people find out…then they do. It won't take long. We don't have to deny anything."

"Seriously?"

"Yea," she nodded.

"So, when Wilson figures it out pretty much immediately and asks…"

"Tell him the truth. They're going to find out. Hiding it is pointless. Plus you'll just think I'm too embarrassed to admit that I'm seeing you…so there's another fight."

He shrugged, he knew she was right. "So no one knows."

"I said that no one at the hospital knows."

House grinned, "Who'd you tell?"

"My sister"

"And…"

"She said she didn't blame me. She thought you were pret-ty good looking."

"Is that exactly what she said? 'Pret-ty good looking…'"

"No," Cuddy answered, shaking her head.

"She said I was really fucking hot, didn't she?"

"How does someone with such…feelings of worthlessness…have such a colossal ego?"

"It's a special blend of dysfunction I developed just for me…not too sweet, not to tart…smooth on the tongue…smooth with the tongue…"

Cuddy grinned her disbelief. "Yea…she thought you were really fucking hot."

"Thank you," he said proudly, sitting back. "Anyone else?"

"One friend. I told one friend. She was excited for me. Someone from med school. You didn't know her. Are you upset that I said something?"

"Oh god, no. I was going to publish it. Get a website."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"Trent. And I may have mentioned it to one or two of the people at the research hospital."

"One or two?"

"Or…all of them."

* * *

She went around to the back of her home, pulling into the garage. He had never even been in there. In fact, he had barely spent any time in her home at all. He briefly stopped to wonder if that morning when he came to see her, when they kissed and nearly let their feelings get the better of them, was the longest he was ever in her home. Technically, he was uninvited at the time. He started to reach for the door handle as the garage door slowly shut behind them, and she grabbed his hand, scooting over onto his lap. "I don't know if I can wait until we get inside."

She moved the chair the whole way forward, then the seatback the whole way back. There wasn't much room, but she deftly had his pants undone before she dove forward to kiss him. His hands were on her, opening her shirt, unhooking her bra to move it out of the way, but never actually removing either item of clothing. He helped her get rid of her panties and watched while she pulled her skirt upwards over her hips. She reached for him, stroking him several times, more for the joy of touching him than to arouse him, he was already hard, but with each stroke he seemed to become harder, fuller, and more desperate.

She pushed him back, he was so tall that his upper body was partially in the back seat, slung over the back of the front seat at an odd angle. She asked momentarily if he was OK and he was so lost in her, he couldn't even fathom why she would think that he wasn't. She scooted forward, her own position awkward, but she didn't care. He stopped her, smirking, "You finally have me with a working leg…and you want to limit me to such a small space?"

She leaned forward, kissing him, "You're trusting me with your care…I know you have to warm up first, especially when you start a new program. Consult with your physician, stretch…" she wiggled into position before lowering her body down until he was completely inside her. "Ease into things," she sighed.

His head went back, dropping down onto the back seat entirely. "Feeling OK so far?" she asked, almost clinically.

He looked up at her, lifting his head, "So far, keep going."

She tipped her head back as her body lifted away, a rippling coordination of muscles as she separated their bodies and her head tipped slowly forward as she allowed her body to drop down again, swallowing him. His mouth was slightly opened, he watched her, deliberately, purposefully riding him. He could see her struggling to maintain a slow pace, she wanted to furiously fuck him as badly as he wanted to her. She picked up the speed, only slightly, "Is this still OK? Do you need me to stop?" she asked, remaining in character as the sexiest physical therapist he thought he'd ever seen.

"I'm tough," he answered, "I can take it."

She slowed again, "I don't want to overwhelm you."

"Overwhelm me," he grinned, moving her hips as he dug his heels into the floor of the car so he could meet her thrusts fully with his own. As hot as she was, as amazing as she felt, waiting there passively for her to fuck him wasn't something he was capable of at that moment. Maybe later, maybe next round, but right then, his need was screaming too loudly.

The lack of room was frustrating and he patted her thigh, asking her to move. He got out of the car, still only partially undressed and pulled her out, slamming the door shut. "I'm warmed up now, I'll be fine," he rasped lowly against her lips before their mutual possession began again.

The truth was that it had been weeks since they'd touched, weeks since they had even seen each other. When he began to climb out of the cloud of detox and his body began to feel better, he found himself thinking about her often. Remembering the things that they'd done, fantasizing about the things they hadn't done yet, and imagining many things that had little to do with sex as well.

Pushing her back against the car, he held her between his body and the side of the vehicle. She could feel the chill of the car and the car's window through her thin dress shirt, feel the cold against the bareness of her ass, and then the warmth of his body drawing closer. The next sensations were those she had been craving, the feeling of him entering her, of his body supporting her and conforming to her own shape. He was so thick and firm, his body insistent, both requesting and nearly demanding her to accept him. He looked down between them, and the sight was very nearly too much for him to take, his eyes moving to her opened shirt, the ill placed bra, seeing the way her nipples would occasionally skim or press into his chest. She was moaning, occasionally whispering his name, pleading for more of him, every sense was overwhelmed, heightened to a degree that was difficult to describe, or even imagine in any other scenario.

From her more wanton responses, he knew she was close. Cuddy did everything she did with a fullness of self, with a passion that he couldn't deny, but seeing her with him was entirely awe inspiring. There wasn't a single forced or artificial moan, nor were there stifled reactions. She was present and real, as honest and beautiful in fights and negotiation as in sex. She was also entirely honest in her displeasure when he thrust into her and remained almost perfectly still. "No more teasing," she groaned, as she pushed her back against the car to try to encourage him to move.

"Missed you," he said, slowly moving out of her.

Her expression softened, "I missed you too."

"I missed your body, you probably guessed that"

She half-smiled, "You seem to like it."

"It's the most amazing body I've ever seen," he complimented as he drove his body forward, steadily burying himself inside her again and locking their bodies together. She kissed him roughly, completely consumed with her desire, but he returned gentler kisses that were heartfelt but still too relaxed for her liking. "But…" he said as he repeated his motion a little more roughly, "I really missed the rest of you too."

She smiled, her kisses becoming more amorous than raw.

"When we were stuck in that little car, I kept thinking about you…while I was gone, relaxing in your bed, wondering if maybe you were thinking about me…about…this…" he asked, moving once again and picking up his pace just slightly because it was impossible not to.

"Oh, god. I've been thinking about you," she sighed, relieved that his pace was quickening, but still frustrated by the overall slowness.

"Me too…and in the car…I could barely move," he stammered as he was trying to speak. "I don't want our first…time… post-procedure…to be…disappointing."

She smiled through eyes heavy with desire "I am _never _disappointed."

She could see his attempts to stay calm and focused, and loved the fact that it was taking every ounce of strength to remain controlled. The man that so many people thought was impossible to get to was completely affected by her.

"Then quit messing around and fuck me," she smiled playfully.

He shook his head no, "Not tonight."

She was confused, convinced he was going to pull out of her, put her feet back down on the ground, and walk away, in some sort of game that would irritate her to no end, but he didn't.

"I'm all for fucking," he nodded, punctuating different words with kisses along her lips, her cheeks and neck. "But this time, I wanted to…tell you something."

"What?"

"Stop talking, I'll show you."

Her eyes glazed with confusion, passion and a depth of love that made her heart jump in fear as much as excitement. "OK…" she started, her voice shaky, "Show me."

He looked appreciatively down over her body, at the way their bodies joined, soaking in everything there was to look at about her. He bowed his head to kiss her chest and neck and shoulders, whatever he could reach as he began to move more steadily. She heard him sigh with relief that he was finally moving, his body seemed to almost vibrate with anticipation of his own. He became more determined, more fervent and devoted, but still lacked the ferocity of many of the encounters they had. His hands were comforting, welcoming, and she could feel the absolute adoration that he was conveying in everything that he did. He could feel it returned. She felt entirely worshipped by something she was similarly revering.

As their passion built in their bodies, their connection took on a life of its own without concern or interest paid to whatever their intentions were. Their bodies were entirely in control, no thoughts wasted on further teases or games, just actions and reactions, basic needs and rhythms that were as old as humanity, influenced by depths of emotion that neither acknowledged simply. When she whimpered at him a plea to never end his pleasant attack on her body, his eyes opened for a second, and created the smallest slivers between his eyelids. Their gazes met and the briefest look of desperation, affection and intense pleasure covered her face. Like the trigger that she had been waiting for, her body tightened and then exploded with sensation, her breath hitched as she gasped and he could hear her voice but had no idea what she was saying, if she was saying anything at all. If he could have planned it, he would have. He would have tried to time his own orgasm with hers, but his mind had ceased to be in control so long ago, he had no power over anything at that moment. He wasn't sure if her reaction tipped his, or if his reaction tipped hers, or if they truly just peaked at precisely the same moment, but he met the noises that emerged from her with his own, he sighed a low sound that turned into a growl that was simultaneously powerful and vulnerable.

They found and re-found each other for as long as they could before he helped her slide down the side of the car. Her feet on the ground, his body stooped to follow her, and they shared an affectionate and appreciative kiss before their eyes met again.

She brought him into her home as naturally as if he had always been welcomed there. After waking for sex sometime in the dead of night, he fell asleep while they faced each other. His arms, his torso, one leg, were all around her, the sensation of her bare body next to his as comfortable as the bed he was sinking deeply into. She surrounded him, the comfort of her home surrounded him, and he realized he could sleep like that every night.

* * *

The next morning was strange. He had clothes in his bag from his trip, and they both got ready to go back to work at the same time. Getting dressed for work together was oddly domestic and familiar, something that couples who lived together were used to, but the two of them definitely weren't, particularly not with each other.

They stopped at a coffee shop for a quick breakfast before work. They stood at the end of the counter, fixing their coffee to their liking and waiting for their breakfast orders. It was something so possibly platonic, but the flirtation and familiarity between them did not go unnoticed when Chase entered the same coffee shop for his own coffee that morning. He hadn't seen House for weeks. House was without his cane, standing in shockingly close proximity to his nemesis, Dr. Cuddy. Chase studied, doing his best to appear casual. There was nothing obvious to prove his suspicion. House and Cuddy weren't being openly affectionate, there was no abnormality in the way either was dressed. They weren't touching apart from a few incidental touches while handing off stirrers and napkins, but yet even incidental touches between the two were atypical. House and Cuddy rarely seemed to make actual physical contact, no matter how close they seemed to get to it. It could have easily been a coincidental meeting by two professionals at a coffee shop remarkably near where they both worked, but Chase couldn't shake his suspicions that it was just a bit too familiar.

If Chase had to predict the behavior of the two, if they accidentally would have met at that location while buying coffee, he pictured House either hiding or trying to embarrass Cuddy into leaving him alone, or Cuddy politely and professionally fleeing the scene before House could see her, or at least before he could make the embarrassing comment he would make if given enough time. They certainly weren't avoiding each other or embarrassing each other. Then Chase noticed that the perpetually observant House and chronically professional Cuddy hadn't even noticed that they were being watched.

Chase just wanted one thing, one piece of proof to hang his suspicions on. When the man behind the counter called out the order, House grabbed the bag, one large enough to contain items for both of them, and they both turned and left the coffee shop.

Within an hour, bets were being placed, and the hospital's most frequently speculated secret relationship was about to be more carefully watched than normal. The rumors around the hospital had existed for years. People speculated that they'd been a secret couple for a very long time, that they were occasional fuck buddies or former lovers, that they played some very serious private games, or that they only had sex when they were fighting. There was a recent rumor that the last loud fight they'd had before leaving, when she shouted, "I can't stand by idly while you do whatever you want," was actually a scream in the throes of passion behind her locked office door. Of course the most prevalent but less scintillating rumor was simple: they truly hated each other. Cuddy and House's relationship was so mysterious and strange that most of the rumors that existed about them were wrong until the day he went back to work after his procedure.

They had to stop by his place to get his employee ID, so Chase arrived at the hospital before they did. House took his own car, since they couldn't guarantee they'd finish work at the same time. Cuddy arrived first, House a few moments later. Attention wasn't paid to the relatively amazing sight of House walking around caneless again for the first time since the ketamine treatment, but everyone was watching him. He stood at the front desk, collecting mail and checking in and trying not to feel as if every set of eyes was on him.

There were far too many people standing, working or talking in or near the entrance to the hospital. "It went well, thanks for asking," House said loudly, walking a few steps, but it seemed people were still watching while trying to pretend they weren't watching. "We're hoping the solution is more permanent than the ketamine…"

Then Cuddy emerged from the elevator, walking toward her office when she saw him. When she got near she said, "I need to see you in my office, make sure everything's in order for your return."

And then she turned, noticing the group of onlookers, and she searched the crowd with curiosity. "Guess we can make some staffing cuts," she shrugged, "apparently I've hired too many people to fill the important role of 'Gawker.' You really only need two or three of them on payroll."

The staff scattered, quite obviously, as she shook her head. "Do you have a minute?" she asked him. "There are a few papers for you to sign, and I need your release paperwork to send down to HR."

House nodded, a bit disconcerted. As soon as they walked into her office, she closed the door, and reached up to kiss him briefly but affectionately, "Welcome back," she whispered, finally drawing a smirk from him.

A single kiss from her made everything in his universe feel aligned.

She patted his arm and walked behind her desk while he stood in front, watching her. "Any chance I can get a welcome back blow job at the office?"

She tapped her lips in feigned thought, then shook her head, and said with a smirk, "Not a chance, House."

"I'll do you first," he tried as he sat down.

"Still no"

"I'll do you only," he offered, a last ditch effort to halfheartedly convince her.

"Strangely, still no," she smiled. "But I admire your persistence."

"Ah ha," Wilson shouted as he emerged from the bathroom, an accusatory finger pointing back and forth between both of them.

"What are you doing in my _bathroom_?" Cuddy asked as she stood up from her chair.

"Washing my hands?" Wilson asked a question instead of answering one.

"In my…personal bathroom?"

"I have a meeting with you this morning," Wilson attempted to justify.

"In my office, not in my bathroom…and not for another half hour," she said as she looked at her watch.

"Why didn't you guys tell me?" Wilson asked, his voice hurt.

"Tell you what?" House asked.

"That you're…dating…or whatever it is that you are doing."

"What are you talking about?" House feigned innocence.

"I heard your conversation"

"Cuddy's been turning down my offer to let her blow me in her office for years. Nothing's changed."

"There's also some rumors…that you got coffee together this morning?"

"If that means House and I are sleeping together, what exactly does it mean if the two of you have been getting lunch together for years?" Cuddy asked. "Or…that you lived together."

"She knows about us, Wilson," House jabbed while Wilson groaned his disgust.

"The rumor goes beyond coffee," Wilson tried.

"Is it the one about my eighteen inch penis?" House asked.

"No, House," Wilson replied.

"Is it the one about her eighteen inch penis?" House asked Wilson, pointing to Cuddy.

Wilson buried his head in one hand. "Cuddy, please. You are the voice of reason in this room. The truth? Please?"

Cuddy folded her arms and leaned on the surface of her desk. "OK, you're right. You deserve the truth."

"Thank you," Wilson said victoriously, gloating at House before looking back to Cuddy.

She breathed out a slow, thoughtful exhalation and then said, "It's just a rumor."

"Oh," Wilson answered, disappointed that they weren't dating.

"His penis isn't really eighteen inches…it's a slight exaggeration. But really…eighteen inches sounds more grotesque than exciting anyway."

House scratched his nose to hide a snicker while Wilson cringed. "You guys suck."

Cuddy continued, "Besides, one day you guys will learn…it isn't just length that matters. Eighteen inches long and pencil thin is probably a significant disappointment for most women."

Wilson was a horrible combination of embarrassed and frustrated, "OK…fine, I don't need to hear this. This is none of my business."

The smirk left Cuddy's face, "You hide in my bathroom in an attempt to gather evidence, while poking your nose into my sex life…and _now_ it's none of your business."

"Sorry," Wilson replied as he sat down in front of Cuddy's desk next to House. "I was happy for the two of you. I really was. When Chase said you guys were getting coffee…"

House smirked, "So Chase is behind this latest spreading of information."

"And the pool," Wilson said. "And it's…a big one. Everybody's in."

Cuddy shook her head, "All of these people on my payroll getting paid to bet on whether House and I are…dating?"

"Most bets say just sex," Wilson said.

"I will never understand why everyone is so fascinated by this," Cuddy mumbled.

"Are you kidding?" Wilson said. "The two of you focus so much of your unsatisfied sexual energy on each other that it's bound to cause an explosion at some point. This hospital and staff are just waiting for your interpersonal Mt. Vesuvius to blow and cover the rest of us in…lava and ash."

Cuddy was blinking, wordlessly considering Wilson's words.

"Ya know…" House suggested, "by his description, we sound pretty hot, what do you say we get rid of this idiot and revisit that whole…blowing thing."

Cuddy shook her head, looked at him over her hand, and then looked at Wilson. "Let's just get this over with. House and I are dating. We have no interest in sharing the intimate details of our interactions with everyone, so the hospital…and its staff…are going to have to act like big boys and girls and stop this insane gossiping. So fine, we'll clear the air, tell them it's true, and move on."

"I'll need proof," Wilson said. "I mean…I believe you of course."

"Come on, woman," House said, "Let's go do it in the lobby and let the staff take pics."

"Highly likely since I already nixed the whole blow job in the office thing," she answered dryly. "Again I'll revisit the possibility that people act like professionals. I'm not here to answer their rumors or settle their bets."

"House...there's money to be made…minds to mess with…" Wilson said as Cuddy shot him visual daggers.

"There _are_ minds to be messed with," House nodded. "Which means…we do exactly what we decided to do last night. Nothing's changed. We do nothing. We do…whatever we'd do anyway. Let them speculate…look for proof. We're both used to people staring at everything we do anyway."

"Are you serious?" Cuddy asked, leaning forward.

"Why not? You…get to maintain your professional cool, I get to watch people squirm…and watch my fellows go crazy looking for answers. We're both happy."

"OK," Cuddy answered.

"Act like you would, tell people, don't tell people, it doesn't matter," House said. "They're expecting an announcement. Proof. We won't give it to them."

Cuddy smiled, "I love it."

"Wait," Wilson said, "I have money on this. If I have proof, I win. I'll split it with you."

"I think entertainment value with my team far surpasses whatever money I stand to make," House replied.

"I'm one of the only ones who bet that there was more than sex…that you guys were actually a thing…doesn't that count for something?" Wilson asked.

"It shows you're a great friend," Cuddy answered with a condescending smile.

"You want to have lunch today?" House asked Cuddy.

"Me?"

"Yea. Cafeteria. You and I. Let me know what time."

"OK," she said. "So you aren't going to say anything?"

"Oh god, no. I'm going to tell everyone I see. I just doubt they'll believe me."

They did meet for lunch. That day, and almost every day. Cuddy still tore down the halls to his office with administrative rage in her step, House still snuck away to empty exam rooms to nap, and they still screamed at each other when they were on opposite sides of the same argument, but they met for lunch. The first few days, it was practically a frenzy of activity around them as people tried to get a peek at whatever was going on. One of them always bought lunch for the other, and the truth of the matter was, House buying her lunch baffled everyone who couldn't decide if it was a red herring or a romantic gesture to such a degree that it seemed to cause more speculation than the actual question of whether or not they were dating.

On their fifth lunch together, House reached half way across the table, palm up. Wilson was at the table with them, his eyes darting from House's offered hand to Cuddy's idle one. She reached out and took his hand. Just for a few moments, their fingers met, intertwining and brushing. The moment was brief and uncomfortably intense for Wilson, but it seemed they couldn't do anything without it looking blatantly sexual, perhaps, in some ways, because it always was with them.

A week later, when House had to work late, and she was ready to leave, she went to his office, and gently kissed his cheek before she left for the night, even though his team was in the next room. They made the slightest gestures toward each other, things that they could have easily done just to screw with people, but enough that suspicions remained raised. They did the things they were comfortable enough doing anyway. For a couple completely in the public eye, they were remarkably private.

Six months went by and they continued as they had been. It became common knowledge around the hospital, but some people still chose to speculate that it wasn't real or that it was something strange or fake clothed in a normal relationship.

True to their agreement, neither mentioned the possibility of a child during that time. Their relationship was less than perfect, but worlds better than bad, and they seemed to find something that, although unconventional, worked for them. House had to accept or avoid aspects of Cuddy's more controlled lifestyle, Cuddy had to deal with his more haphazard and untidy way of life, but day after day, they remained together. Their sweetest moments were quiet and secret, but the respect that they had for each other at home subtly crept into all of their interactions. They maintained separate residences, but spent most nights together at one of them. Things were, on the surface, casual, but privately quite serious.

"Check this out," House said, nodding toward the operating theater when Cuddy came to find him one afternoon. "Is that not the most gigantic testicle you've ever seen?"

Cuddy stood next to him, one of her crossed arms brushing his, peering down into the room. "Jealous?"

"It's mostly a gigantic tumor. So no."

She smiled, "You're busy, I'll talk to you later."

"I really don't think I did anything," he answered, his eyes were focused on the theater in front of him, but his expression remained sincere.

"It's personal," Cuddy said, "You free after work today?"

"As long as the patient doesn't have any surprises for me, yea," he nodded as she walked to the door to leave. Then suddenly his mind engaged what she had said, and he began to worry, "Wait. Is everything OK?"

"Everything's fine."

A realization hit him. She wasn't sure if it was the way she walked or spoke or smiled that clued him in, or if maybe, he _was_ secretly able to hear the thoughts in her head. "It's been six months," he said, turning fully away from the operating room and facing her.

She turned back around and faced him, folding her hands securely in front of her. "It has."

"Six months, two weeks and some change," he clarified. "This discussion is overdue."

"It is. I'll…see you after work."


	2. Incidental

_A/N-Hi all, thanks for reading and thanks to all who've reviewed: IHeartHouseCuddy, huddyholic, OldSFfan, suzmum, ikissedtheLaurie, grouchysnarky, TheHouseWitch, JLCH, Jane Q. Doe, Alex, housebound, Skieathuddyrepeat, Abby, Ana anamq, Suzieqlondon, LapizSilkwood, ClareBear14, MsStevieCooper, HuddyGirl, jkarr, dmarchl21, lenasti16, Josam, jaybe61, Reader, precioussoulandsweetcheeksii n1, newsession, BJAllen815 and the Guest reviewers. _

_As always, I thoroughly appreciate your patience with me and your comments in the various ways I receive them.  
_

_All disclaimers still apply. The Aches and Pains series tend to be a little smuttier than some of my other stories, for those who would like to be warned of such things. Thanks as always for taking the time to read! (I'll try to have the next chapter of Preservation on Monday as usual, and this one I hope to post again on Tuesday, but I can't make any promises.)_

* * *

-Incidental-

House seemed much more relaxed about the idea of having a child with Cuddy than she had been. In fact, her concerns were confusing to him. He often wondered, although they didn't speak of it, exactly why she had been so concerned. Every time he thought of Cuddy's dream of motherhood going on unfulfilled, he imagined the pained look on her face that day in the NICU so many months earlier, and he couldn't imagine her finding happiness in life without this need met. In his puzzle solving mind, the solution was simple: pregnancy. For some reason, the mechanics of conception, the resulting pregnancy and baby didn't fully translate to the realities of a life-long relationship with the resultant child until he was dealing with his patient later that day.

He was near the patient's room, the one who had an extremely large growth in his testicle, and House witnessed the interaction between this man and his wife. His wife wanted more children and was relieved that her husband would still be able to have them. House heard the entire conversation peripherally. It wasn't particularly interesting to him at first, until a family member brought in the man's children to visit. The three children ranged from toddler to preteen, but the longevity of parenthood suddenly seemed evident.

The solution to Cuddy's problem went far beyond the act of conception. It also went far beyond the resulting human's infancy. The reaction was thorough and immediate: House panicked.

He couldn't help but wonder why in the hell Cuddy would actually agree to have a child with him. He had been so focused on the problem and solution that the ripple effect of that solution hadn't played through in his mind. He was completely certain that she could get pregnant. He was realistic, IVF was an option that he was more than willing to accept, but IVF had failed to work for her in the past. Lately, Cuddy's work schedule was a bit more realistic. She still worked hours that put most professionals to shame, but not the insanely demanding schedule that she had once kept, and he really believed that if she just let go and stop trying to force a pregnancy, one could and would occur.

As he watched the three children playing in his patient's room, he realized that he felt entirely ill-equipped to act as a parent. Cuddy wanted him to be an active participant, not a donor if they were going to be a couple. It made sense, he understood why a three year-old may not react well to, "Of course you look like me, I'm your biological father, and yea, I sure like your mother, but I won't help you get a snack from the kitchen because I'm not really your dad…just a donor."

Cuddy had a point, it was messy to go half way. Suddenly, he felt almost as if the problem didn't really have a simple solution. He didn't want Cuddy to find a donor elsewhere, he knew that much. If their relationship was a success, and there was a child, he also realized that, regardless of whether or not there was a biological connection, a three year-old also wouldn't react well to, "Yes, I live here, and I sleep in the big bed next to your mom every night like a dad, I just don't feel like being your dad or a dad-like figure, so go hug a teddy bear."

He didn't want to give up Cuddy either. They were good together, much better than he thought they'd be, and he actually enjoyed her. He loved her body, he loved her love of sex, specifically her love of sex with him, he loved the way she made him feel so often. Those things, the sexual ones, were sort of accepted as predictable fact long before he was even with her. He realized even further, and much less expectedly, that he loved watching TV with her and weekends away and even going grocery shopping with her because she was actually having fun outside of work. The freer spirit of undergrad Cuddy was still there underneath it all. She didn't sacrifice her professionalism while at work, but at home, she had really learned to have fun again, and he found himself laughing more often than he thought he ever had in his life.

He started to panic fully, because in two hours she'd probably be waiting for him, and they were going to talk about the thing that he thought he wanted to talk about all along, but suddenly wasn't ready for. His patient was stable so he went to the locker room and changed his clothes, he was going to run. One of the joys he discovered during his brief honeymoon from pain while the ketamine treatment worked, was running. He still loved it. He loved that he could keep up with Cuddy physically, that sometimes they could take jogs or play sports or go for really long walks without his leg hampering their fun. That day, in response to his panic, he ran long and hard, ignoring time and all other concerns while he tried to sort the thoughts in his head. When he got back, it was late, really late. In his locker, his phone had two messages on it. One voicemail, asking him what time he would be able to leave, and one text sent later that said simply, "I understand."

He went to the shower, he was taking his time, trying to decide exactly what she meant by "I understand," and trying to decide how to proceed without hurting either of them. Half way through his shower, he was hit by a thought: what if Cuddy's understanding meant simply that she was moving on? What if it meant that she believed that he was just interested in sex and fun, and that she was ready to grow up entirely, ready for the rights and responsibilities of family-hood. He finished his shower as quickly as he could, not wanting to let her go, but still uncertain of the solution. He had to know exactly what she was thinking, and he wanted to know immediately. He wanted to know before one missed conversation led to years of loneliness, before it led to years of wondering, what if?

He tried to call her and she didn't answer. He went up to her office, finding the light on and bursting inside to see her on her phone, working. Hopefully it meant she wasn't ignoring his calls, she was simply too busy to answer.

When she hung up, she said very simply, "You owe me no explanation, House. None. We took six months to decide what we wanted for a reason. I wanted you and I to both have a chance to be sure we were ready for…whatever. Let's not make it awkward."

"Does this mean you…want to end it?" The hurt, the fear, the loss was already in his voice, although subtly so.

"No," she shook her head. "We can still date, but…I want a child. And you are right, if I can't pursue that, I'll resent you. And if you're forced into this, you'll resent me. I'm going to another fertility specialist, I'll find an anonymous donor. That means, you'll have to deal with me and pregnancy anyway. I hope you can accept that…the physical implications of that. That way, we can still have each other…and I can still chase my dream. Neither of us is being trapped into something they don't want."

The quiver in her voice on the last word stabbed straight through his chest. That sound, the noise that likely only he would pick up on, meant something much bigger than any words could say. "Come on," he asked gesturing toward the door.

She sighed, "Not right now. Give me an hour. I'll go with you then."

"You're working?"

"I'm avoiding," she answered honestly.

"What do you want?" he asked as he approached her and sat on the edge of her desk, his feet dangling off of the ground as he looked down at her.

She got up from her chair, sat next to him on the desk, and sighed. "Are you…going to be able to be as honest with me as I am going to try to be with you?"

He shrugged, "I'll try."

She bit her lip nervously, "I want it all."

He nodded. "So, if your wants were the only ones in consideration. In your…ideal outcome…what would happen?"

"Do you really want me to answer that? Are you…ready for the answer?"

"I'm asking the question. So yea," he replied.

"That doesn't mean you're ready for the answer. I'm always trying to walk the narrow line between making you feel like I really do care and not scaring you off."

"I'm always trying to walk between being me and keeping you…avoiding actions that may chase you away."

"How could you chase me away?"

"I almost did today."

"I'm trying to respect how you feel, trying not to pressure you."

"I do know that."

"What do you want?" she questioned.

"I asked you first. I want to know what you want. Ideally."

"You know I expect you to tell me the same thing," she demanded. "I told you, half way, is doomed to fail."

"You first"

"Like I said, I want it all," she said calmly, trusting and hoping that he could treat her with the same honesty, but uncertain if he was truly able. "I want to have you because you and I make sense. We work and I like the way that we work. And I love you, but you know that. You also think that…saying that is just words. I want to keep my career, it matters to me. I want to have a baby. I would prefer to have that baby with you. In every sense…with you. I also know that…sometimes what we want, isn't what we get."

House looked ahead. It was his turn, and his honesty here could carry them to a deeper level of trust, and deflection could do irreparable damage.

"If we got married," House began.

"Is that what this is about? I'm…financially secure in my own right, and I don't need a ring to validate anything. I know anyone can walk away from a marriage, believe me, I don't assign some false sense of security to marriage."

He waited and then said, "If we got married…and you decided in nine months that it was a mistake…you could divorce me. If you wanted to…we could…switch jobs, move…you could never see me again. It's simple. If we have a kid…and you decide in nine months that you don't want me…you're still kind of stuck. Once I decide that I'm going to be a dad to the kid...that's what I'm going to be. Which means…you'll have to see me for at least eighteen more years. I'll be…the ex you and your perfect husband will have to deal with when the kid graduates high school when it's thirteen…with honors. The kid might look like me…might be a reminder that…at some point, you thought I was good enough to have a relationship with…good enough to take to bed…good enough to father a child. Is that…really something you're willing to live with for a really, really long time?"

She looked over at him, shocked by everything that he'd said, "That was honest."

"It was. A kid is actually a bigger commitment than marriage."

"I'm…I…I'm really honored that you take it this seriously. That you took me seriously about being a dad, and not just a donor. I wish you didn't assume I'm just…biding time…waiting for another man to come along. I take this as seriously as you do."

"I don't feel like giving you up, Cuddy," he answered softly.

"What is your ideal, if my wants aren't at all in consideration?"

"I want you," he said calmly, "I want to keep diagnosing. And I want to do it here. You're…the only boss…the only woman…this can work with. You can…stand up to me when I'm going to far, but let me be insane enough to do what I do. And I want to keep having you as both. I trust you, Cuddy."

She placed her hand over his which was flat on the desk. "I trust you too."

"I want you to have what you want too. Including the kid. I don't want you…having some other far less worthy man's child," he said with a tiny smirk.

She smiled at him and he smiled softly back.

"But," he clarified, "I want you to understand that it means you'll be stuck with me for nearly a lifetime. Whether or not you keep wanting me in your bed, I'll be around."

She hopped down from the desk, stood in front of him between his legs where he sat on the desk and stared at his face, waiting for him to look back. He finally did after some hesitation.

"A lifetime…is a long time," she finally said.

"It is," he answered.

"Maybe keeping you around is one of the pros on this pro-con list. Maybe…you should consider the fact that I'm not lying and I may want you."

He stared.

She smirked, more uncertain than happy, "Are you alright?"

He nodded.

She added, "I don't mind feeling…some sense of permanence with you. I'm…honored that you've thought this through so thoroughly, because it shows me that it means something to you far beyond 'Operation Knock-Up Cuddy.'"

He smirked at her, but still said nothing.

"That is…what you are showing me…isn't it?" she asked, her expression hopeful.

He nodded.

"Maybe we aren't that different. Maybe you and I…really want the same things?" she suggested.

"Maybe we do," he finally answered, as his hands grabbed her firmly and pulled her upward toward him while he leaned back on the desk.

She kissed him, both playfully and passionately and then put a cautionary hand on his chest, "No sex in the office."

"You said we wanted the same things," he attempted with a sly expression.

"Mostly. I _want_ to have sex with you here in the office…I also know I _shouldn't_."

"Take me home?" he asked.

"Definitely."

* * *

This was a big decision. Cuddy stood in front of audiences of hundreds at conferences and fundraisers without batting an eye. She made decisions that impacted the lives and livelihoods of thousands of people every day, decisions about employment, lawsuits, life or death situations. Every day she faced insurance companies and powerful people who made other people cower while she was unfazed. This was bigger. When they got in the car that night she said softly, "Are we decided? I'm ready. Are you ready? Are we at that point…or do we need to take some more time to think?"

"Ready?"

"Yes," she said as she shut her car door. "I…want us to try to have a baby."

The statement was direct. She was prepared for a lot of reactions. She was prepared for an onslaught of innuendo, blatant sexual references, even further hesitation, but House tilted his head to the side, and smiled.

"What does that mean?" Cuddy asked him. "The smile…what does that mean?"

"Good," he smiled.

"Really?"

"I mean, I've always wondered if I'd be a good father. I'll let you decide. You hire people for things, and I was just considering what my resume would look like if I actually had one. I had years of experience pacing. All. Night. Long. It's a skill I am uniquely qualified for. To be perfectly honest, sleeping every night is…a little unsettling, so I'll be able to get out of that nasty habit again. I have no trouble sitting around with bottles…I'll just need to switch to bottles that do not include alcohol…and give them to someone else."

Cuddy smiled, "Alcohol and infants is generally frowned upon."

"When you saw how much pain I was in…you wanted to fix it. You already know that I want _you_ to have this. What you may not know…is that _I_ might want this too."

* * *

That night, they plotted together, thoroughly considering options. They each had skills in strategy and execution of plans strategized, and they were going to conquer this obstacle together. There was a sense of excitement in the air, a feeling that perhaps they were standing on the edge of something not only new, but something more. Cuddy felt like she was ready for this, like there was a chance that everything she wanted could actually be hers. House felt proud that she had selected him, not only as a biological father, but as a partner, and while her insistence that he be a _dad _for her child was still a little worrisome, her confidence in him made him think that maybe he'd be up to the challenge.

The next day, Cuddy stopped taking birth control and they made agreements to try to conceive naturally without paying too much attention to timing. Since they had sex as frequently as they could anyway, it seemed likely that they could manage to have sex on the days that she was ovulating. Of course that agreement was largely theoretical. They were both doctors, they both were capable of monitoring signs and counting days, but they at least made efforts to hide the fact that they were doing so.

House agreed when Cuddy told him, with a great deal of acceptance, "If we don't have any luck after a year, we'll consult a specialist."

Both of them were concerned that sex would lose its fun, they'd both heard similar horror stories before. Neither wanted to hear the other suggest that it was time to hurry up and do it because the timing was right. Interestingly enough, since they both had the fear of reducing something they thoroughly enjoyed into a chore, they each tried even harder to keep their sex life fresh and fun, and neither said much about the possibility of conception resulting from their encounters.

About three months later, they decided they wanted to get a home together, neutral territory since it seemed they'd always see his apartment as his, and her home as hers. All of the research suggested that conception under normal circumstances usually took a year, so they estimated that they had at least a year and a half before a baby would be born. They had more than ample time to find a home.

They never suspected when Cuddy's home went on the market that her aggressive realtor would have it sold eleven days later for full asking price. By the end of that month, the paperwork was signed. Temporarily, she moved into House's apartment, hiring a moving crew to put things in storage until they could find the home they wanted to share. After settlement on her home, Cuddy called House.

"Now that we live together, you're coming home to cook me potatoes and a steer right? I have a manly appetite," he proclaimed brazenly into the phone.

"I…don't think so. But you could _order _potatoes and steer…and have it delivered," Cuddy retorted.

"Aw come on…I'm one of those…enlightened men. I went grocery shopping for you…the steer is actually standing here next to me. All you have to do is come home, kill it, butcher it, and cook it up. I will also supply the eating of the meal…and the burping."

"How kind," she answered dryly. "It's lucky for you that you bought the entire steer…because you'll have something to keep you warm, since I won't sleep next to your misogynistic ass."

House smiled as he heard her in the hall. He opened the door, blocking the opening with his body. "Want to come in?" he asked with a smile that was unbelievably faint, but looked happier than she'd ever expected.

She leaned forward and up, brushing her lips against his, "I'd love to."

"Before you come in," he cautioned, "there are a few rules."

"Which you are mentioning after my home is sold and I am completely displaced?"

"I thought that might give me more bargaining power," he joked before he leaned down to kiss her more fully.

"Did it hurt?" she asked before she'd accept the kiss, "You…trying to come up with _rules_?"

"A little, but you know of my fondness for order," he jested back.

One hand on the top of the door, and the other arm wrapping around her, her pulled her inside the apartment and tightly against him. He turned around, leaning his back against the door to shut it and bringing her with him. His lips found her neck, inching down toward her collarbone, "Welcome home," he mumbled into her skin.

"Thanks," she sighed, pulling her jacket off and dropping it on the floor. "Love the welcome wagon. Do you do this whenever someone new moves in the neighborhood?"

"Just this building. I'm a busy man."

While she giggled and sighed and looked forward to whatever was coming next, she fleetingly recognized how good it felt to leave work for home, even if it technically wasn't her own place.

"How about dinner?" he offered.

"Later," she moaned, "for now…I like the whole welcome wagon thing we have going on."

"But I slaved away over your meal," he protested when he pulled away from her slightly, looking at the carryout bags on the coffee table. "It's like you don't even appreciate my hard work," he griped with a smirk, "I guess we can heat it up later."

She dragged him backwards toward the sofa. "Is that the same place you ordered from for our first date here at the apartment…before your procedure?"

"Was that a date?" he grinned, flashing his eyes.

She knew it was. She was certain whatever was in the bags was exactly what he had ordered all those months ago. She knew the bottle of wine that was on the table was the same as the one he had offered her that night. His attention to detail in the re-creation showed her how much that night meant to him, and not only that he was _alright_ with her living there, but that he _wanted_ her there. "You know," she began, "When you kissed me that night…thinking that it could somehow…diffuse the tension…"

"Or…maybe I just…really wanted to kiss you."

"I was so irritated that you walked away from that kiss," she smirked, rubbing her nose against his stubbly chin.

"What did you expect me to do?" he countered.

Since she told him of her office fantasy one day in Germany, she found that he never tired of hearing her fantasies, it was common foreplay, sometimes via text during meetings, or on phone conversations on the way home, and occasionally whispered while they were out at dinners at fine restaurants while waiting for an entrée to arrive.

"Well," she began, "Remember how you had me pushed up against the back of your sofa?"

"Yup," he said while he stepped her back and listened to the slight noise that emerged from her when she hit the furniture. "My mind's fuzzy on the rest though…you'll have to tell me."

"Well," she said in the voice that drove him wild, "I was sort of…sitting on the back of the sofa while you were kissing me, I definitely wasn't hesitating. I wrapped one leg around you…like this…"

"I remember," he said, the end of the word evolving into a sigh when her hand went between them and began persuasively tracing the emerging ridge in his jeans.

"Do I still feel as good as I did then?" she whispered, her lips softly brushing his ear as she reached up toward him.

"Even better"

"Do you want me just as much now?" she asked as her lips kissed along his jaw and lingered in front of his mouth.

"Even more," he groaned more deeply when she locked her ankles behind him and ground her pelvis into his. "I don't remember that kiss getting this far," he whispered while he pressed his hand firmly against her from her hip upward, roughly lifting her breast once he found it.

"You're right," she said calmly as she removed his hand and slid down from the sofa until she was standing next to him.

"Get your ass back here," he said, his voice cheerful because he thought she was coming right back to him.

She rounded the sofa and began opening the bags of food and arranging containers.

"What are you doing?" he grumbled as he followed her around to the front of the sofa and sat next to her.

She had a big forkful of food that she practically shoved into her mouth, something she never did, but she was taunting him. She quickly chewed and swallowed her mouthful of cold noodles and said, "Can you open the wine?"

"You can't do that to me," he said.

"Ask you to open the wine?" she teased.

"Turn me on and then skip off to eat."

"We were re-creating the night, I guess with a little role reversal, but, we did eat before we actually had sex. I know how picky you are with accuracy. So let's eat."

He stared at her, his facial expression a combination of irritation and poutiness. "We don't have to do everything the same way we did that night…I was just re-creating the sweet parts that went with the sweaty parts."

"OK," she nodded, sticking another more reasonably sized fork of food into her mouth as she stood and took her shirt off and sat back down.

"You're…just going to sit and eat topless? You think I'm going to start begging at this point?" he chuckled, gathering his control again.

"No, I don't think you'll beg. I'm just giving you something to look at while we eat," she flirted.

After another bite, she stood and took her skirt off, shimmying it down her hips and legs to the floor. It was then that he realized she had probably planned the whole thing. She was wearing new, black lace panties and an amazing matching bra. It was a stereotypical tease, a traditional enticement, it had been done a hundred times and yet he still found the very sight appealing. She stood, bending just a bit in front of him to grab the bottle of wine and turned, her beautiful breasts complimented by wonderfully sexy lingerie in his face before she walked out to the kitchen. He could hear her open the bottle, grab glasses and walk back in the living room, again sidestepping in front of him with her breasts in his face.

That time, he leaned forward and latched onto a nipple, biting hard enough to hold her still and bring the nipple into his mouth. She gasped as she felt his tongue through the spaces in the lace of her bra, his teeth pinching down on her and shooting sensation throughout her body. The bottle of wine was still in her hand as she pulled him closer, he could feel the cool glass through his tee shirt on his back. When he let go, he waited for her next move, expecting her to exert her control. Instead she put the bottle and glasses down and stood in front of him, offering her other breast. He smirked up at her, assuming that their game was over and the fun would begin. She sighed and moaned softly as he paid equal attention to her other breast. His forearms were on his knees, he wasn't forcing her to stay in that spot. She felt his fingers stretch forward, gently caressing her thighs. She stepped back, looked down and said, "You feel so good."

He smiled at her, prepared to move things along, and then she sat next to him and poured the wine. "Aren't you gonna eat?" she asked.

"You are such a fucking tease," he accused playfully as he watched her.

He wanted to win. He knew her body, he knew that after the loving attention bestowed on her nipples and the feelings of his fingertips on her bare upper thighs, she was already wet and swollen and wanting him. She was an excellent actress, playing calm and collected, but he saw the way her thighs were squeezing together slightly and her pupils were dilated.

"Keep teasing, Cuddy," he threatened, "I hope you don't get in too far…"

She turned, and said, calmly, "Or what?"

"Or I'll just take care of myself."

She shrugged, "I'd like to see that."

He laughed, "No, you wouldn't. No woman wants to see that."

"I'm a woman. And…I want to see that."

"You're just saying that to call my bluff. But I'm not bluffing."

She finished a bite of food, and then meticulously closed the container and placed the fork across the lid, acting as if she didn't know that he was trying to hurry them along because he was nearing very real discomfort. He took a long gulp of wine and sat back, trying to decide how much he wanted to up the ante. She slid on the floor in front of him, kneeling between his knees. He was so turned on that he seemed to forget that she was the woman who could match his teases and play his games.

He wasn't ashamed, the sight of her on the floor in front of him, her hands rubbing up his worn jeans until they reached his belt, had him so hard that he felt like he would bust the zipper that kept him confined. She pulled the zipper down slowly after opening the belt just as meticulously as she had put away her dinner. She was besting him for patience. She smacked his hip to get him to lift and pulled his jeans and boxers down. When he settled back down into the sofa, he let his head drop back and he waited, wanting to just feel everything that he thought was about to happen. Her hands crept back up his thighs, reaching his hips, and then once she had his hips in her hands, she stopped. "OK, go ahead."

His head popped up, "What you mean?"

"I said that I want to see you take care of yourself."

"Oh, no. Nope."

"Why not? You'd like to watch me."

"Of course I would."

"So, you start, then I'll go."

She sat back when he leaned forward, grabbing his glass of wine and taking another gulp. "For how long?"

"Just a minute or two. I'll tell you when you can stop."

"And then you will?"

"And then I will," she confirmed.

He looked clearly unconvinced, she certainly didn't think he would follow through, but he tipped his head back, closing his eyes, and wrapped his long fingers around the base of his erection with one hand while the other hand rested on his thigh. He began to pump his hand slowly yet firmly up and down along his length. She watched him intently, trying to learn more about the things that he liked by seeing what he liked to do to himself, after all, his attention to the things that she liked was part of what made him such an exemplary lover.

"I love watching you," she rasped. "You have no idea how hot you look."

He shook his head, "I'd rather be touching you, feeling you, looking at you," he said as his eyes met her again. "I've had this toy forever, you're newer, hotter, much nicer to look at…overall more fun."

She smirked, "Thank you anyway, for letting me watch you."

She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around his sensitive tip, swirling her tongue around him and listening to the very pleased and very aroused resultant groan. She allowed her fingers to cover his, so she could encourage him to keep going, so she could feel the motions and pace of him stroking himself while her mouth helped him along. The muscles of his thighs tensed at the feelings she was producing.

"Your turn," he said unexpectedly, stopping her and pushing her away.

"Why?" she asked.

He lifted her up onto the sofa with relative ease. "Because it's your turn, and I want to wait."

She sat back, bending one leg up next to her and leaning on the opposite arm of the sofa. She looked initially uncomfortable, but was unwilling to let him know that. He watched her fingers part her folds, one finger slipping along her warmth, skimming and circling her clit, arousing herself with mostly indirect contact. After seeing his interest, she seemed more confident, unashamed, it was part of what made her so irresistibly sexy, the way she owned her desire, embraced the beauty of her body. She was already swollen and wet as he had expected she would be, she looked inviting and perfect, and he wanted to touch her so desperately that he wasn't sure if he could figure out how to prevent it. The only thing stopping him from devouring her was the fact that he didn't want to stop watching her.

He moved onto the floor in front of her, resting his cheek on her thigh, the rough sensations of his face and the warm caress of his breath against her wetness adding to the already thrilling sensation of her own fingers while his eyes made love to her. Her fingers were becoming more direct, flipping and flicking and circling more quickly. Unable to wait much longer, he brought his fingers up, prepping two of them at her entrance and probing into her fully as soon as he was aligned while she continued. Her head shot back, she was aware of absolutely every feeling, he was aware of the fact that he didn't want to stop, but he was distracted by the throbbing of his own need.

She was an amazing sight, his fingers were disappearing into her, and her body was shifting and responding to their joint efforts to bring her pleasure, her fingers gracefully slid, danced and pressed along her clit.

She looked down to watch him and saw the combination of arousal and desperation on his face, she moved her hands away from herself to pull him up to her, but he took the opportunity and his mouth covered her. His tongue slid, flat and wide and rippling against her in a few flutters that matched his fingers and she was coming, loudly, her body twisting and quaking in reaction. She pushed away his face but allowed the continued attention of his hands. Her toes were curling, fingers splaying, thighs trapping him against her while her core thudded and quivered internally, clenching down on his fingers. He continued pressing with his fingers in rhythmic upward pulses against the squeezing of her post orgasmic twitches, and he could see the way her clit was still jumping with pulses of pleasure.

She panted for only a moment, her body relaxed, and then she wanted to do something to bring him the same degree of pleasure. She tried to press him backwards again, to take him in her mouth and watch him unravel, but he moved her shoulders back against the sofa and hovered over her. One knee on the cushion of the sofa, and the other leg braced on his foot on the floor, he had a moment where he was pleased, as he was often, that his leg worked and he didn't have to battle a handicap to do the things he wanted to do. The moment of appreciation was short lived as his straining length found her core. She was like wet fire against him, so warm, so soft, so wet and welcoming. He entered her, just a bit, just enough to open her with his thickness but not yet buried in her. "Wanted to be in you," he mumbled lowly before he braced one hand on the sofa beside her and the other on her hip. After a few shallow thrusts, he drove fully into her.

She cried out her need and he wasted little time, his body tested to capacity, he had precious little control left as their bodies easily found their rhythm. It wasn't long before he was getting close. "Please let go," she moaned underneath him and he had little choice.

He groaned out loudly, feeling his entire body tensing while he poured into her, his orgasm gripping his body, only allowing a release of the tension as his energy flowed toward her. His arms wrapped around her, holding her up tightly before he flipped back, refusing to leave the warm, pleasant place inside of her that it seemed to take him so long to find.

They rested together, her body draped over his, both dizzy post release, dropped down from heights of tension to the earth. She wasn't sure if she really slept or how long they were idle, but she knew she wanted him still when she became more alert and realized he was still right there. She began to flex, tighten and squeeze him with her sex while he remained hidden inside her, waking both his body and his libido. Her hands began touching his body as she whispered compliments for all of the ways he had made her feel. She loved the feeling of him expanding, becoming thicker, longer and harder again while still inside of her. There were so many advantages to having a man who loved sex and loved her body as much as he did.

When he was fully aroused, and she knew she would get what she wanted, she got up, helped him sit up again and she straddled his lap, her knees on either side of him on the sofa. He was sliding against her not yet in her, looking up at her, his hands finding her breasts to bring them to his mouth for quick kisses, or moving to her ass to feel its fullness, or tickling up the distance of her spine.

He looked up at her, smiling, wondering how she'd react if he'd say something about the one thing they'd clearly avoided during sex. "I want you to have my baby."

He waited, uncertain of how she was going to react.

"You do, huh?" she asked playfully, still sliding her folds against him.

"Yes. I want you to let me…do that to you…for you."

"Not just letting you…I chose you. I want you to do that to me…and with me…"

She reached between them and aided their union, swiveling her hips slightly. She was barely moving, enjoying the satisfaction that came from simply being joined.

"I'm honored," he smiled, without a hint of sarcasm, "that you'd pick me."

"I'm honored you accepted," she answered, lifting just a little, a slow, gentle fuck that was about their connection.

They continued with gradual increases in focus and tempo until she slowed a bit and said, "I hope you still want to do this when I don't look this way."

"I'm going to watch everything about the way your body changes."

She wasn't moving at all, a brief flash of concern across her face, "I hope I won't disgust you."

She thought he was going to say something cruel, mostly because he seemed so shocked and appalled by what she'd said that his response seemed almost certain to contain the word 'idiot.' His voice came out more gently than she expected, "You think I could be disgusted by you?"

"I don't know," she began, but he interrupted her when he grabbed her face and held it in a deep kiss that made her begin to move herself on his lap again.

"I want to be the guy lucky enough to get you pregnant, and to see how beautiful you are like that."

She kissed him with gratitude, "I want to be the woman lucky enough to carry your child. I can't believe you're willing to do this with me."

Their words became kisses which became bodies riding and undulating, the give and take that became more beautiful with coordination and cooperation that required no planning whatsoever. They built their passion back up, a steady climb up a tall peak, able to enjoy the frenzied tense encounters, and the gentle sessions of union with equal excitement but in different ways.

Strangely, they found that what was so fun about and sex or fucking or making love wasn't lessened by the possibility that there was another purpose as well. They didn't have to sacrifice the fun of their intimate moments for the truth of the potential that was present so often when they met that way. The realization that they had accepted each other as partners in an outcome that they both took so seriously made the truth of their acceptance of each other so much more sincere.

On their journey to rid each other's aches and pains, his leg, her desire for a child, other needs were met as a result. Before, both were in many ways lonely, lost in worlds of pain, excellence, intelligence and success, worlds that kept them isolated from others. In pursuing relief from pain, they found understanding and acceptance in the arms of a potential enemy.

* * *

A few months later, House and his team were conducting a diagnosis. He was standing at his whiteboard writing down symptoms when Cuddy walked into the conference room. She only entered two steps, and waited just inside the door. His gaze shifted momentarily from the work at hand to Cuddy.

She held his gaze, looking directly at him, and she raised both eyebrows, just a bit at the center, the corners of her mouth twisting in a tiny, satisfied smile. House studied her face, cocked his head to one side, waiting for the answer to the question that she knew he was asking. She bobbed her head once in a nod. His eyes smiled brightly, the remainder of his face in its typical expression as he nodded only slightly back. Smiling subtly once more, she left the room.

"What was that about?" Foreman asked suspiciously.

House turned to the whiteboard, and began writing again.

"House," Foreman asked, "I asked you a question. What was that about?"

House turned back, waving the marker in one hand dismissively, "Can we concentrate on the dying _patient_?"

"I want to know what in the hell just happened between you and Cuddy," Foreman answered. "Is this just part of that are-they-aren't-they game that you two waste everyone's time on?"

House turned his back on his team, facing his whiteboard. A satisfied grin found his face in a moment of happiness that he could not suppress. After allowing the happiness for a moment, he regained control of his expression and turned back to engage his team again. He snidely answered, "You guys done worrying about Cuddy yet, or should we just let this patient die? After all, we saved a bunch of other ones lately, that should count for something."


	3. Ask and Receive

_A/N-Thanks so much for reading this story, and to all who've reviewed this last chapter: IHeartHouseCuddy, Reader, lenasti16, CaptainK8, suzmum, MsStevieCooper, housebound, Boo's House, jaybe61, dmarchl21, grouchysnarky, JLCH, Suzieqlondon, jkarr, KiwiClare, ClareBear14, Abby, HuddyGirl, Alex, LapizSilkwood, Josam, Minkia, ikissedtheLaurie, BJAllen815, ammeboss, Tori and the Guest reviewers._

_I know a few of you requested part of this chapter when your read Aches. I hope you like it.  
_

_One more chapter left on this one. I hope to post it Thursday or Friday. All disclaimers still apply._

* * *

-Ask and Receive-

The night that they found out Cuddy was pregnant, they celebrated. Cuddy warned of realistic expectations, and reminded House of her history with miscarriages, but they were both a little surprised that things had happened so quickly. They were ripping clothing off of each other before the door to the apartment had even clicked shut.

"I feel like you didn't even really make me work for it," House whined when they half-napped in bed afterwards.

He was still settled between her legs, his head resting on the space between her ribs.

"Sorry," she answered with a sarcastic smile in her tone. "I should have played hard-to-knock-up for longer."

"My ego," he warned, "Is going to be completely unstoppable."

"Going to be?" she jabbed. He could almost hear her fears running in her head. "I just can't believe it happened so fast. I wish I could just…be happy about it and get rid of this lingering feeling that I should be concerned that it's going to go wrong."

"If it doesn't take the first time…we'll try again," he said, lifting his head to volunteer his services. He watched as her expression fell further. "Cuddy, it'll be fine," he said softly.

"We don't know that."

"If it isn't going to work, it's because there was a problem with the way it was developing. Some embryos just don't take, you know that. It isn't…because there's anything wrong with you. Don't look at it like it's a test of your suitability as a mother."

Her eyes darted away and he added, "Don't even use my earlier words against you…you know I didn't mean that, I was in pain. I've tried to show you that those words don't reflect how I feel."

"I was actually thinking about how it's easy for you to…talk about embryos and to disassociate yourself. I'm not able to do that. Not with this."

"It'll work," he nodded. "And _if _it doesn't…we'll keep trying until it does. You know I won't give up until I find an answer."

"There are only so many times you can take a loss like that…before trying hurts too much."

"Don't doom the thing before you give it a chance," he said, lifting his head, and placing one hand opened low on her belly before resting his head back down on her torso.

Cuddy's face smiled widely with an almost stunned expression.

"What?" he asked.

"You called it a 'thing,'" she shrugged.

"You're offended but grinning?"

"No…you referred to the embryo like something that was trying to survive. That was…more humanizing than I expected from you."

"You do know that most women would probably be angry if you called their embryo an it."

"I…" she said proudly, "am not most women. I know a little something about the source."

"You're sure it's mine, right?"

"Probably. It's hard to keep track," she teased.

"I'm just checking, because if it's mine, I think I can tell if this one will take." He replied, looking a bit irritated by even the joking insinuation that it could be someone else's child.

"How?"

"This kid will be a stubborn asshole just like me. You're stuck with it now. And just like me…once you have us, we never really go away."

"Did you just call our child an asshole? I think that's worse than 'thing' or 'embryo.'"

"Yup," he said, lifting his head, his face displaying a look of stubborn certainty.

"What does that say about me if for some reason that does not completely horrify me?" she chuckled.

"It says we're meant to be, Cuddy."

She ran her finger along his ear, tracing the side of his face and watching while his eyes fluttered shut.

"Stop worrying," he said, his voice partially muffled because half of his face was pressed tightly against her belly.

"I'm just used to disappointment with this. I don't want to get my hopes up."

"We're stubborn and unrelenting…terms like 'asshole' and 'bitch' are commonly used by the masses," he said, popping his head back up, "Our combined DNA will victoriously follow suit."

* * *

A few weeks later, House wanted to schedule surgery for a patient and went looking for Chase, stopping in the locker room in the hopes of catching his target before he left. House heard students on the other side of the lockers when he went inside. They were talking about Cuddy, she had taken them all through rotations earlier that day in the absence of the attending physician they were working with.

"That fundraiser next week, I'll take a go at that," the deep-voiced one said. "I seriously think I have a shot. Did you see the way she looked at me when I was taking care of that kid in the clinic?"

"Yea," a more soft-spoken male voice said, "It was a look that said, 'Jesus, if I was that mother, I'd rather pay than have that jackass at the free clinic taking care of my kid.'"

"Fuck off"

A third, more jovial voice responded. "I have a better shot than you any day."

"You're both insane if you think that," the softer voice interjected. "I hear she goes out with the diagnostics guy. At least that's what he's always telling everyone."

"It's probably all talk. I hear they started the rumors themselves, and it's all a cover-up, because he and the head of oncology have a thing going," jovial guy said.

"No," the deep one said, "I heard that she's too busy to find real dates, so they just use each other for sex…like they don't even really like each other. If that's the case, I'm throwing my name in for contention."

"I heard some rumors that they've been together since he started working here. You think you actually have a chance?" softer voice said.

"Completely. I'm in my prime. I'm just her type, young, hung and hot," the deep one bragged. "You know how those…high powered women are. She's probably looking for a younger guy to boss around at home and work out all of those alpha-bitch frustrations on."

"You're all talk," the jovial voice answered, "Whenever she asked you a fucking question you were practically stuttering."

House felt an insistent swelling of irritation at the pile of idiots speculating about their lives, but then, that was exactly what they wanted. Since they started dating, he enjoyed allowing and even nurturing the ambiguity of their relationship. At that moment, House began to wonder if that was actually what he wanted anymore.

He walked around the corner, "You guys seen Chase?"

The deep-voiced one was practically stuttering, except he wasn't really speaking. The jovial one piped up, "No, I haven't seen him."

They were ready, waiting, perhaps hoping House would clarify the rumors that were rampant.

"OK," House shrugged, the nervous expressions on the faces in front of him enough to ameliorate his unhappiness a bit.

Walking toward the door, he stopped briefly, turning back to the trio, "Really powerful women would never bother trying to boss around some weak, spineless brat. Where's the challenge in that?"

* * *

The first week of Cuddy's second trimester, House came home on a Friday night after finishing a case, and heard the sound of rumpling plastic coming from the bedroom in his apartment. When he entered the room, he saw Cuddy removing a gown from the protective garment bag. "Nice," he said approvingly, flopping on the bed, "I want to see it on you…and then take it off you."

"After my shower, we can meet the first part of your request. The second part will have to wait until I get home," she added, walking into the bathroom and starting the water.

"Wait…you're…actually wearing that tonight? Like…officially?" he asked, following her, standing in the doorway to the bathroom and watching her undress.

Just in the last few days, he noticed that she had the tiniest bump in her lower abdomen, more of a feminizing curve in her shape than a telltale sign of pregnancy.

"Yes, House," she said, repeating a conversation they had at least twice before. She stepped into the shower and yanked the curtain closed. "I have a benefit tonight at the hospital. The pediatric oncology benefit that the entire lobby is being decorated for. I'm completely certain you noticed that at work today unless you had some sort of temporary blindness."

"I thought you were just going for a new, less-stuffy look."

"I'm also completely certain that I mentioned the benefit."

"You did. You also said it wasn't required."

She pulled back the curtain just enough to peek around, her hair piled on her head in a mass of tresses and suds. "It _isn_'t required…for you. I'm the boss. I actually have to show up when my hospital is doing something like this."

"There are plenty of lackeys there to do…whatever needs done," he griped, "Stay home. Aren't you tired?"

"Not anymore. This whole second trimester energy thing is really working out better for me."

During her first trimester, Cuddy was often tired, sneaking naps and quiet moments in a way she never had in her life. Once the hormones of early pregnancy began to fade, she felt even more energetic than normal.

"So you're going to make me go?" he sighed dramatically.

"Nope, I already told you…you don't have to go."

"You're going by yourself?"

"Wilson said he'd pick me up"

"Wilson?" House complained.

He walked away, climbing back onto the bed to wait for her. The conversation between students from days ago was floating through his head while he tried to feel lucky that he was exempt from the fundraiser. When she came out of the shower, she began dressing while he watched. After the gown was finally on her, he noted with a smirk, "You…are definitely showing."

"I am not," she countered defensively.

The gown was a formfitting and beautiful, it followed her curves perfectly in the most flattering of ways. It looked stunning on her, but he was right, her tiny tummy was visible in that particular dress.

"You've been waiting for this pregnancy for years and you're going to complain about the fact that it's visibly succeeding?" he asked.

"I'm not complaining. Just surprised. Not sure if I'm ready for this round of speculation to begin tonight."

"That's part of the fun right? Keeping them guessing?" he asked in a way that was clearly uncertain.

"I don't know. It was fun for a while…now I'm not so sure." She looked down at her abdomen and ran her hands along the topic of their discussion. "I'll have to find something else," she mumbled, going to his closet and finding the very limited wardrobe that she had there. Nearly all of her things were in storage. "We need to find a place to live. We can't keep putting it off. I need my things and I think the kitchen may not be the best nursery."

"I thought we'd just stash junior out in the hallway. We'd probably sleep better that way."

She tilted her head, denying the suggestion with her body language.

"I know," he conceded, "We will…we'll…go see places this weekend."

"What am I going to wear?"

"You can borrow something of mine," he offered. "I always think you look hot in my tee shirts. They really show off your legs."

She was looking through her limited wardrobe piece by piece, worrying about the fact that they hadn't yet agreed on a home and trying to focus her attention on work rather than personal concerns as she often did.

"Wear that," he nodded toward her, "you look amazing. Most people won't even notice."

She looked down at her body again, her brow furrowing slightly. "Are you sure it looks OK?"

"You look insanely hot. They're gonna find out at some point. I guess we can try to have you walk around with boxes in front of you, or you can start wearing parkas instead of do-me power suits…if you don't feel like doing either of those things…you might as well let them find out."

"There will be questions, House," she explained.

"We told people you and I were a thing. It's their own fault if they don't believe it. Although…admittedly, years of lying on my part and my friendship with Wilson have apparently called our confession into question."

"What do you mean?" she asked while she continued to get ready for her evening.

"I mean…some people think it's a cover up or a lie."

"Cover up?"

"I've been known for trickery before."

"Huh," she answered, completely unconcerned.

"It isn't like we're the typical professional power couple."

"Well, no. You-" she stopped putting on makeup when she heard a loud knocking at the door. "Can you let Wilson in, tell him I'll be out in a minute?"

"I can't believe you're wasting that dress on Wilson."

"I'm _wasting _the dress on the fundraiser. Not on Wilson."

The knock came again, this time, louder. "Please," she asked, "Can you get that?"

House walked out to the living room, scowling at Wilson as he walked in. "What's your problem?" Wilson asked as soon as he was through the door.

"Nothing," House answered grumpily, circling the sofa and dropping down into it, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and turning on the TV.

"You seem cranky."

"Do you think most people know about me and Cuddy?"

Wilson shrugged. "Guess it depends on who you mean by people. They all know what you've told them. But I guess…most people think it's just another one of your insane games. Which…might have to do with the fact that you typically mention your relationship in the context of something…sexual. Tonight…they'll probably be busy thinking _I'm_ the one getting lucky," Wilson teased.

He was smirking proudly at House, who was enjoying the conversation much less. "Look," Wilson said, "You guys are not in a normal relationship, but you're happy, so who cares. Plus, you're lucky, you have Cuddy…and you have me to play Mr. Cuddy for events like this that you hate going to, and you get to play the secret lover."

House's eyes shot over at Wilson, "You're just driving her, _Mr. Cuddy_. Not taking her home."

"Technically I am…taking her home. That's part of driving her."

"You know what I mean"

"You're lucky, House. You found a woman who doesn't make you do this stuff…doesn't make you dress up and go to these events unless you're required to be there as an employee of the hospital. You have nothing to complain about, you have…exactly what you wanted."

"Yea," House nodded uncertainly, "I know."

* * *

Cuddy was floating around the lobby in her dark green dress, and she did look absolutely stunning. House was right, most people didn't seem to notice the tummy she was sporting, although she did think that it might start a new wave of rumors among the few who did notice. At that point, she felt it was ridiculous, it still seemed as if they'd confirmed it a hundred times, with varying degrees of conviction, but their confirmation of a relationship only seemed to make it more suspect. She had much bigger things to worry about than whether or not people believed they were in a relationship.

She missed House at these sorts of functions, it was true. Part of their quest to form a relationship where neither of them had to sacrifice too much of themselves included concessions at times like these. House didn't have to go to any functions unless he was required to by virtue of his position. Similarly, he didn't ask Cuddy to attend sporting events or see monster trucks. It was all part of their meticulous attempts to make something work without dooming their relationship to failure.

When they first began dating, he attended a fundraiser at the hospital, one he was required to attend as a department head. As that fundraiser was coming to an end, he gave her a scandalously desirous look and whispered, "Can we take this party to your office before we go? Don't you have a fantasy that's just dying to be acted upon?"

She shook her head like she did so often at similar suggestions. "No sex at work, House," she told him that night several months earlier.

Her reaction to his suggestion certainly did nothing to encourage him to show up for any of the many fundraisers that he wasn't required to attend.

At the pediatric oncology benefit she attended with Wilson, after an hour of mingling and performing her duties as a gracious hostess and administrator, Cuddy went to the front to introduce the first person on the night's program, a speaker, a former cancer patient who was treated at the hospital as a child. Cuddy felt more awkwardly self-conscious than she usually did immediately before she took the stage. She definitely felt like she was being watched. Cuddy convinced herself that it was because she was pregnant and beginning to show, but she couldn't entirely shake a feeling that something was both odd, and perfectly normal.

She straightened her dress one last time, Wilson whispered to her that she looked wonderful, and then she took the stage. She cleared her throat, and made the appropriate introductions, still unable to shake the feeling of being watched, a feeling that sent occasional chills through her body. While she was reading the bio for the speaker, she looked up and grinned widely for just a few seconds when she saw House standing by the door, staring at her. She finished the bio and left the stage as soon as the speaker began his presentation.

Cuddy casually walked toward the doors, shaking her head with surprise. "You…are here," she whispered.

"I'm here," he answered.

He had on his suit jacket, and even a slightly crooked tie over a wrinkled shirt, but he voluntarily showed up.

"Is everything OK, was there…an emergency?"

"No emergency," House shook his head. "We were still trying to compartmentalize. But we agreed that being in this half-way was going to lead to failure. You here…while I'm at home…equals half way."

"What about you feeling…forced into something?"

"Don't expect me to make speeches or be nice. I'm here…that's it."

She stood next to him for a few minutes, offering the appearance that she was listening to the speaker.

"I didn't expect you to come," she whispered over her shoulder.

"I know," he nodded with a quick smirk before his eyes began darting around the room.

There were two occurrences that night that for some reason ended the thoughts that perhaps their relationship was one of convenience or a hoax. They both always figured that the only end to the doubt would come from some bold and undeniable declaration or gesture, but they were wrong.

The first occurrence happened after the speakers were both finished. Wilson walked up to the pair, looking with surprise at House and saying, "What are you doing here? Afraid Cuddy will have second thoughts and realize that she selected the wrong member of the dynamic duo."

"Didn't want her to have to put up with you all night on her own. Seemed unfair," House retorted.

Wilson pointed at House's tie and said before walking away, "You're crooked."

House's hand went absently to his tie, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to fix it or not. Cuddy tilted her head, and lightly slapped his hand away from his tie, "You look fine."

Then she laid her left hand on his chest, raised up on her toes, and with her right hand, she reached her fingers up to the side of his head and mussed up his hair just a bit at the side. "That's better," she smirked.

A fleeting look of undeniable affection passed between them before she turned back to the crowd. "I have some administrator stuff to do…mingling and such. You want to hit the cash bar?"

"Yea," he nodded. There were eyes on them, there always were.

He went over to the bar, sat in front of the bartender, and ordered a drink.

"It's true, isn't it?" Foreman asked, taking the seat next to House.

"Yes, Foreman, there really is a Santa Claus."

"About you and Cuddy"

"I've been telling you it was for months. I don't know what else I can tell you. I'm not going to let you watch."

Foreman's head shook and face twisted with disgust, "I wasn't asking. We all just…assumed that as soon as we believed it, you'd call us idiots. We couldn't figure out your game."

"There's no game. I've been telling you all this time and you didn't believe me, why believe me now?"

"You're at a benefit…voluntarily. Plus…Cuddy. I saw you two over there. She…likes you."

"Everyone likes me," House said as he lifted his tumbler to his lips.

"No…she _really_ likes you. Weird."

"It's not _that_ weird."

"It sort of is. I'm happy for you. Not sure if I'm happy for her…"

House looked across the room, saw her charming a couple that he was certain either were already, or would soon become donors, because they were eating out of the palm of her hand. She did seem to glow in a way. It was so trite and ridiculous, but he couldn't help but think that she was actually radiant. His eyes were all over her, as they often were. The changes in her were subtle and discrete, just like the evidence that would lead people to believe that they actually were a couple. She was the slightest bit curvier, the slope of her hips just a bit more rounded, breasts fuller, and then there was that tiny round belly.

Her belly was the evidence of the secret they shared, proof that, day after day, they were getting closer to healing the wounds that had caused her so much pain. There was a bond of trust, a commitment inherent in the agreement to have a child that went far beyond anything that people were speculating about. They hadn't told anyone, agreeing not to mention it during the first trimester, and she had only just begun the second.

She would pause periodically, or just allow her eyes to find him while she did her job with grace and poise. She'd lock eyes with him flirtatiously for the scantest of seconds, but it was enough to make him feel somehow more connected. While he watched her, he felt an increasing sense of pride in her, in who she was, and in their relationship. He felt more and more that he no longer wanted there to be any sort of doubt about the nature of their relationship.

Sure he didn't want people to think that Cuddy was dating Wilson, or anyone else. Beyond that, once word of her pregnancy started to get out, he didn't want anyone speculating about who the father of the child was. It wasn't as much about possessiveness as it was a feeling that it was wrong to deny his future child, as if it created the impression that he was somehow ashamed or embarrassed of its existence. Her pregnancy was very much a culmination of everything they were trying to do for each other. Earlier in the evening, after she left with Wilson, all of those feelings pestered and taunted in his head, and House found himself getting dressed and going to benefit to join her.

He was invested, committed to ending Cuddy's pain, dedicated to their child and to her.

Foreman was chattering beside him, and House was completely mesmerized by Cuddy's continued interaction, watching her introducing the speakers to other attendees, she really was in peak form in front of a crowd. Then the second of two events began that ended all thoughts that the relationship between House and Cuddy was anything but genuine.

A man approached Cuddy through the crowd. He was frustrated, pointing fat, accusatory fingers in Cuddy's face. The crowd immediately surrounding her backed away slightly, leaving her isolated while they watched what was occurring. House was immediately racked with frustration that the staff around her, people she protected and took care of every day, so easily backed away from her when she was in trouble. The man certainly wasn't very imposing or intimidating, and he certainly didn't appear to be resorting to violence, but the ease with which her colleagues abandoned her seemed horribly wrong.

House got up from the bar, and made his way to her side. He sort of stood between Cuddy and the angry former employee, although off to one side, and when the man began getting more irate, House moved slightly more in front of her, and then his hand went out to the side, in front of her abdomen while he was talking. The gesture was entirely innate and natural, he was protecting his family as organically as he breathed or felt hunger or desired sex or felt love. Every set of eyes with even the most rudimentary observational skills noticed the way House maintained a separation between the man and Cuddy, and the way that his hand went out in front of her. That tiny little gesture was what made all of those sets of eyes move next to the new curve in Cuddy's figure. Some people were still unconvinced, but as she would grow, there would be no doubt about the father of her child.

She took House's arm, wrapped her fingers around his biceps, and stepped forward toward her accuser. She kept House next to her while she calmly diffused the man's rage. Wilson, after seeing the angry man approach Cuddy, got security, and they were soon ready to escort the man from the property, but Cuddy had calmed the man down to a manageable level before security even got there.

After the accuser was gone, Cuddy looked at House with silent appreciation for his obvious defense of her, and he looked at her with admiration at her calm and flawless handling of the situation, and then they both looked around and realized all eyes were on them. House looked uncomfortable suddenly, like an adolescent whose voice cracked while he spoke, and he leaned toward Cuddy, "Want a…juice or a water or something?"

"Water would be great," she answered, looking more uncomfortable under scrutiny than she usually did.

He turned, one hand finding the small of her back and directing her toward the bar, a gesture that was protective, affectionate and familiar all at once.

After that night, the speculation about the status of their relationship was over. Just when they thought that it would lead to a whole new line of speculation regarding her growing and his protecting, it didn't.

Wilson walked up to them while they sat at the bar and said to Cuddy, "Are you...?" Wilson gestured toward his own stomach.

"Hungry?" House asked.

"No," Wilson answered, "You know," he made a rounder gesture with his hands.

Wilson looked oddly uncomfortable at the suggestion, and Cuddy put him out of his misery. She nodded, shoulders shrugging and face grinning like it did every time she thought about that fact. "I am," she said softly teasing, "you know."

"And House is…the…" Wilson asked.

Cuddy nodded again.

"Woah," Wilson answered. "That's…woah. IVF?"

Cuddy shook her head no.

"Oh my god. Wow. That's. So…huge and…" Wilson stared back and forth, and then said to Cuddy, with a smile, "Is this a secret?"

"Not anymore," Cuddy answered.

"I won't say anything."

Cuddy looked around the room, "Actually…go ahead," she looked at House over her shoulder.

House added, "Easier than us having to tell everyone."

"My thoughts exactly," Cuddy answered. "It'll be obvious soon enough anyway to anyone who doesn't get the news."

Wilson hugged Cuddy, "I am…so happy for you."

"Thanks, Wilson," she smiled at him as he turned to House and looked at him with the look of a proud father at a wedding or graduation.

Cuddy left them to work the crowd some more, made connections, found new donors and convinced existing donors to dig deeper into their pockets. House sat at the bar, talking with Wilson about things that weren't as serious as love or children. She disappeared for a few moments, and returned to House's side while Wilson was trying his luck with a doctor from another hospital. "You look tired," Cuddy whispered.

"No, I'm good," House answered before he saw the look on her face.

"Well…you _look_ tired. I just went and unlocked my office," she mentioned. "Anyway, I have some stuff to do." She was smirking, her eyes holding his.

He nodded before she walked away. House stared down at the scant sip of a drink still left in the bottom of his glass and began to wonder. Of course he wondered if Cuddy had some interest in fulfilling the fantasy she told him about long ago, one that he clearly shared, but there was a much more reasonable explanation: she was giving him a place to hide for a while so he could have a break from all of the people and eyes around him.

He got up, tossed the remaining contents of the glass into his mouth and began to walk toward Cuddy's office. He found Wilson still chatting with the new prospect and House mumbled, "Since I'm here, I'll take Cuddy home."

Wilson smiled quickly, patting his friend roughly on the arm in a subtle show of congratulations before turning back to the obviously interested woman.

Figuring that he stood to gain whether Cuddy wanted to fulfill a fantasy, or if she was just giving him a reprieve from the crowd, House went to her office. It was dark inside, and he kept the lights off, sitting on her sofa and leaning back to wait comfortably for her. He expected to wait for a while, but it was only about ten minutes before her door opened.

Cuddy stepped inside, locked the office door behind her, and stretched as she walked over to the bathroom. She kept most of the lights off, turning on only the bathroom light, allowing just enough illumination into the room so that the area around her desk was subtly lit. She moved casually, turning the blinds so that the slats closed, affording her complete privacy. She ignored him entirely, although he could sense by the way that she moved that she felt his presence. She stood in front of her desk, stretching again, allowing her fingers to land by her neck and move slowly down her silhouette, following down her side to her hip, and then continuing upward. Her hand moved farther until she was holding her breast, her thumb and forefinger forming a U around her nipple. She grasped her breast roughly, much more roughly than he had been with her lately, assuming that hormones were making her flesh more tender than sensitive in a pleasant way.

She gasped softly, reaching around behind her back to lower the zipper, and freeing her arms. The reduced light led to the most enticing shadows, and fed the feeling that he was watching something that was meant to be personal. She unhooked her bra, her breasts spilling forward more heavily than normal, their increased fullness fueling his desire even more. She took off the bra entirely, although her dress still hovered over her hips, covering her lower half.

She stepped out to the side of the desk so he could watch her form as she stooped, reaching under her dress to gracefully tug her panties down, allowing them to slide down her legs on their own once they could without any assistance. When they remained attached to her person by only the tip of one of her ridiculous heels, she kicked them toward her desk chair and walked back toward her desk, to the spot between her chair and the space on the desk where she worked nearly every day.

Her hands pressed her dress firmly between her open palms and her thighs, and without grabbing or finding the hem, she slid the material up over her hips, keeping the dress on around the center of her torso, covering only her abdomen and leaving the rest of her gloriously naked. She effortlessly lifted her own body onto the edge of the desk. She lifted one leg to the side, bent at the knee, an upside-down vee that allowed him to see the bend in her calf and the curve of her thigh backlit as if highlighted by a delicate spotlight.

In his opinion, the sight before him was worlds better than any stripper since the dawning of time. Her body moved with the grace of a woman herself aroused, not the scripted gestures of a woman trying to convince someone else of their arousal. She had perfectly captured the feeling that he was secretly watching her, that he was witnessing a moment that was supposed to be hers alone, but he also understood the implication that he was the one who inspired such a bold and needful sexual response.

When her heel, the one that wasn't on the desk, found her chair, he knew it was soon time for him to act. She leaned back, steadying herself with her left palm flat against the desk, and her right hand drifted up her thigh. He couldn't see the place where her hand met her body, he couldn't physically witness how her fingers were beginning to move against her, but he could see the way her back arched and her chest rose, pushing her breasts upward into the chilly air of the rest of the office. He heard the tiny sigh, that shaky, grateful exhalation that she usually made when she had needs that were just beginning to be met.

He wanted to go to her, to touch her, and he also wanted to watch her like that forever. The feeling of the confidence of knowing that she was his, mixed with the feeling of something so forbidden rolled into one voyeuristic moment. He felt excited, his body tight, the pulse that thundered into a desperate need reverberated until the point that he had no option but to notice that pulse with his entire body. He stood, walking to her without making a sound. When he was at the edge of her desk, he grumbled, "You disrupted my nap."

She smirked, knowing that he remembered her fantasy. She gasped, refusing to leave the fantasy, but her fingers remained covering her aching center. "God, House, what are you doing here?"

"Napping. You woke me up. What has the chronically cool and composed dean of medicine so hot?"

"Go away, House," she said as her face twisted slightly when her fingers pressed against her folds.

He walked slowly closer, leaning on her desk in the space left open between her legs. "Why not wait until you get home?" he asked as he stared at the nipple that was tight and deep pink and screaming for his attention.

"I…" she looked so nervous, so uncertain that she seemed to truly be in the moment in her fantasy, in the moment where she still thought he may reject her. "I knew you were going to drive me home. I didn't want to act…on impulse."

"You were worried you'd want me?" he asked, finally making the smallest point of contact between the back of the fingernail on his index finger and the lower slope of her full breast, following the curve of her body up over her nipple. "You thought maybe you'd cave…you'd touch me?"

She turned away, still breathing heavily, her body shifting just slightly forward and back.

"Answer me," he grumbled, "answer me or I walk away, and you can finish doing…whatever you were doing alone."

"Fine, I was worried…that I'd give in…that I'd cave."

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers and feeling her try immediately for a deeper kiss. Her face followed his, her lips parted, tongue almost between them. "I don't mind impulsive behavior," he added, brushing his lips against hers just the slightest bit more slowly, only to watch her move toward him again in the hopes of getting what she wanted.

"I don't mind if you can't stop from touching me," he added. "So maybe you don't want _me_ to touch _you_?"

"You work for me…we shouldn't be doing this," she said nervously.

"Just because you shouldn't, doesn't mean you won't," he said, moving to brush her lips one more time, just the slightest bit longer, but her patience was done.

She grabbed his tie, held him close to her face and said, "Fine, you want me... Here's your chance."

He couldn't help but hope that they'd play through this fantasy and the hundreds like it over and over again. She slipped his tie loose until it was hanging open around his neck, unbuttoning his shirt and dragging her fingers down the center of his chest to the top of his pants. He watched her open his pants while he rubbed her thighs, progressively but patiently pulling her closer to the edge of the desk.

Once he was freed from enough of his clothing, he yanked her forward to the very edge of the desk, so she was teetering right on the edge of it, he lined up his body right at her entrance and paused. He held her hips still, slowly lurching forward, trying to experience every centimeter of new contact as he moved into her, feeling her open just enough to allow him entry and not the slightest bit more. She was so tight and snug around him, he was convinced they were actually made to fit together perfectly, that every last bit of them was in complete contact. She leaned back on her hands so she could watch him. "How many times have you thought about doing this?" she asked seductively.

He was overwhelmed, inundated with sensations and thoughts and feelings that he could barely take in. He pulled her up to him, lifting her off the desk slightly and listening to her gasps of longing. He was barely moving, so she pressed her feet against his ass while she tightened her legs, pulling him forward, pleading with him to move, to release her pent up desire. When he wasn't moving quickly enough, she pulled herself up with her fingers gripping his shoulders, crashing their mouths together in a sloppy, desperate kiss that said exactly how much she wanted him. She leaned back, bracing herself on her desk again with her palms flat on the surface and she cried out, "Come on, I need you to fuck me."

She was moving her body with little help from him until she saw the strained look on his face. "Oh god, does your leg hurt again?" she asked, stopping, the spell momentarily broken.

He was grimacing, a look between agony and determination on his face, and he shook his head.

"Then what's wrong?" she asked, worried that something was ruining this fantasy. Her face began to smirk, "Are you…that turned on?"

He smiled just a bit, breaking out of the fantasy for a second to nuzzle against her neck. He could sense the pleased grin on her face, he knew she loved what she did to him. He started moving, trying desperately to remain a little detached. "I've dreamed of you doing this. Of you coming around my desk, pulling me out of my chair and doing everything you wanted to do," she told him.

She wasn't helping, her glove-tight body, full breasts and tempting words had him half-done again in seconds. She whined when he pulled away from her, grabbing her desk chair and pulling it closer until he was seated. He pulled her knees over his shoulder to lick her, refusing to come before her when trying to realize her fantasy. His tongue moved along her slit, dipping deeply into her before wiggling against her clit and she unraveled easily. He lapped at her softly, stretching an orgasm so thoroughly that he wasn't sure if she actually came again, or if it was just one pleasured peak that refused to give up its hold on her senses.

He sat back on her chair, pulling her onto his lap and teased her with her own words, "Were you…that turned on?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, hiding her face against his shoulder while his finger casually caressed and probed at her core.

She stood up so abruptly that he thought perhaps something was wrong until she bent forward against the desk, sticking her perfectly round ass out. She looked over her shoulder, saying nothing while he stood and was on her instantly. He was inside her almost immediately, as soon as he could get there. His hands pressed down on her back , tipping her pelvis back, the perfect sight. As she grew more aroused, again feeling the possibility of climax, she stood up, stretching back to kiss him as best as she could. His hands found her breasts, grasping them as firmly as she had been when he was watching her earlier, listening to her approving responses.

They didn't speak any more, they couldn't have if they wanted to, the were drowning in their moment, the perfect intersection of fantasy and reality. He actually picked her up as he came, his arms eventually winding around her completely and pulling her down on the chair with him where they could recover. "Who says living out your fantasies is usually a disappointment?" she panted.

"Not me," he said tiredly, holding her tightly on his lap.

They rested for a while, nearly asleep and disheveled in her chair.

"It was nice having you here," she mumbled.

"It was nice being in there," he teased lecherously, pressing against her core with his hand.

"I meant here at the fundraiser."

"Oh that. Well, I'll come to the next one too…I have this…clinic fantasy."

"Really," she chuckled.

"Also…a my office fantasy, a cafeteria fantasy, MRI observation room fantasy…"


	4. Gathering The Pieces

_A/N-Thank you so much to all who have followed and favorited this story, and to all who have left me their thoughts in a review this chapter: Josam, ikissedtheLaurie, Guest, lenasti16, jaybe61, Little Greg, The House Witch, LapizSilkwood, JLCH, IHeartHouseCuddy, dmarchl21, Suzieqlondon, ClareBear14, Reader, Abby, HuddyGirl, Alex, IWuvHouse, Minkia, BJAllen815 and Mon Fogel.  
_

_One note…I am a huge liar. When I was finalizing this, I felt it was too rushed, and that I tried to fit too much stuff and time into one chapter. This was supposed to be the final chapter, but I elaborated, and added a short epilogue, and made this one chapter into two._

_(Minkia, I believe you're psychic, thank you for helping me to make a decision exactly when I needed a nudge. And Josam, I expanded some stuff based on what I saw in your review too…thanks to both of you.)_

_You've all been very kind in your reviews, it's much appreciated, I wasn't sure if people would enjoy a more lighthearted story, so your reviews were quite helpful. _

_I'll post the final chapter of this story this weekend._

* * *

-Gathering The Pieces-

Finding a home proved more difficult than getting pregnant. House often reminded Cuddy that it was because open houses weren't nearly as much fun as baby making. Cuddy had an appointment for an ultrasound Monday morning, a few weeks after the fundraiser. They were going to find out the gender of the baby. Cuddy's mother Arlene protested the most loudly when they said they were going to find out the gender, asking why her daughter didn't want a surprise on the day of the birth. Cuddy calmly answered, "Everything about a baby being born is a surprise. The day, how long you're in labor, what color his or her hair will be, if they have any at all, what they look like…there are going to be plenty of surprises when the baby's born."

Arlene knew about the coming child for two days, and was already sharing a lot of opinions about childbearing and rearing. She also had opinions about the importance of marriage and religious tradition and nearly everything else they talked about as well. If there was one human being House wished he could remove from their lives, it would have been Arlene Cuddy. He met her once over a dinner that was absolutely excruciating. Arlene called frequently after that meeting, and every time Cuddy talked to her mother, it seemed there was a whole pile of irritation and concerns to follow. Arlene was immediately and vocally critical about their lack of housing also, which was already a bone of contention between the pair. House was less concerned about their housing situation, Cuddy was in the throes of an all-out panic and her mother was fanning the flames.

House didn't mind Cuddy's sister. Julia seemed all too willing to calm both her mother and her sister. Julia thought House was handsome the first night when she saw him lingering on Cuddy's porch in the days right before they were a couple. Julia appreciated the fact that he was attractive, and she found it sappily romantic that he stood on her sister's doorstep late at night, flirting shamelessly. What Julia really liked about him was how happy he made her sister. Julia knew of her sister's desire for a child, she also knew the pain of Cuddy's disappointments, so when House wanted to help Cuddy's dreams to be realized, Julia liked him. Julia also saw that, for once in her adult life, Lisa was having fun. "Sexy, smart and good in bed," Julia said approvingly, "well done, Sis."

Cuddy bragged about House as a partner, and complained about him as an employee, and Julia remarked that if they could keep their fights to the realms of the professional, it gave them ample fodder for angry exchanges and make up sex without the messiness of fights about bills and chores.

The morning of the ultrasound, Cuddy woke House up shortly after dawn. "I need you for something,'" she whispered.

"OK?" he asked, immediately suspicious that she was trying to get him to agree to something before he was alert enough to protest.

"I need you to come to the ultrasound with me."

House looked up at her through the one eye that seemed to be working and rubbed at his face in an attempt to wake up. "What?" he questioned, both confused and sleepy.

"Just in case…you know. You know what, forget it, I still need you tonight though," she said as she started to pull away and he grabbed her wrist.

"What's tonight again?"

"A surprise"

"And why exactly did you think I _wasn't_ going for the ultrasound? I sort of figured I had an implied invitation," he replied as he sat up, leaning back on his elbows.

She settled down on the bed, sitting next to him. "You do…I just wasn't sure if you really wanted to go."

"How often do you have the ability to research awesomeness in utero?" he asked.

She paused and hesitantly smirked, waiting.

"Of course I want to see my handiwork," he said adamantly. "Missing that's like…an artist missing his debut at the MoMA," he declared loudly as he became more awake.

"That makes me the MoMA?" she asked, uncertain.

"Eh," he grunted, "You're right, you're classier looking on the outside. You're more like…the Louvre."

"I'm sorry I haven't spent much time considering which national treasure you look like," she sarcastically retorted.

The second she saw the expression on his face, she rolled her eyes and held out a warning hand, because she knew exactly what he was going to say when he answered, "Washington Monument."

She went to the kitchen for breakfast and when he joined her, she turned abruptly, "You have a patient right now?"

"Nope"

"Take the day off with me"

He blinked and said with horror, "Are you trying to destroy my reputation at work? I can't believe you'd suggest such a thing."

She waited for him to finish his display.

"I have clinic duty," he confessed, "my boss will hunt you down."

"I know how you cherish the time you get to spend getting back to the basics of practicing medicine…"

"I do indeed."

"Too bad you can't find a replacement."

"What's it worth to you?"

"Never mind. Go…do your doctoring…swab, wipe and prescribe."

"Well…since it's so important to you…" he began.

"I do have an ulterior motive," she added. "You may prefer clinic duty. I want to go check out a crib. Is that too…ya know…"

"Crib? So we aren't using the dresser drawer…or a laundry basket?"

She shook her head. "I think we can afford a real crib."

"Fine, if you want. We're missing out on an early character building moment here. You don't want your kid to be all…pampered…do you?" he asked with a grin.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting.

"Do they have toys at the crib store?" he continued.

"Yes," she nodded.

"OK, I'll go."

* * *

Cuddy was looking through cribs and bedding while House was considering appropriate toys for an infant. "You like this one?" she asked.

"Yup," he answered, disinterestedly.

"What about this one?"

"Yea, sure"

"And this one?"

"That's my favorite one," he said looking past her at other things.

"Your favorite one isn't a crib," she said, holding up a plastic infant bathtub.

"I see that," he confirmed as he looked at her again.

She looked frustrated while she scanned the other cribs.

"This is part of what you like, Cuddy. You pick. I really don't care what the crib looks like as much as you probably don't care which tiny piano I pick out for it. My crib criteria are pretty unremarkable. If I can put the kid in it, and it won't fall apart, and the kid won't roll away, I'm good."

Cuddy found a crib while House went to check out toys. She selected one made of dark wood, sturdy and safe, and then went on to the bedding set.

He approached her as she was looking at a sheet and quilt set covered in pictures of soft pastel A-B-C blocks and fluffy sheep, and he yelled loudly enough for most of the store to turn toward them, "Stop!"

Cuddy startled, dropping the blanket down onto the floor. "What?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"You can't get it…that," he said with horror as he stooped to pick it up.

"I wasn't going to, was just looking through all of them. Besides, I thought you didn't care."

"I don't care about the _crib_. I can see that this stuff comes in one big set…the blanket, these little…thingies for the wall…a mobile," he said, holding up some of the contents of the set "You expect this mobile and blanket to stimulate a young mind? Boring!"

"OK, House…" she said with surprise but not unhappily, "What do you like?"

"Feel this?" he said, putting the blanket up to her cheek. "It isn't even really soft. It's…passive-aggressively uncomfortable… Aren't you supposed to give babies soft things? Even I know that."

She had a bemused expression, uncertain if he was making fun of her, or really interested in what they were discussing. Sensing her uncertainty, he clarified, "Look, I don't care about furniture, but I know about fun and feeling good. The kid needs both of those things because I need both of those things. This…is neither of those things."

"OK," she replied, realizing the sincerity in his tone. "So something that feels softer."

"Yea," he answered while he opened each package and felt the different blankets in the crib sets. He set five to the side. "These all feel good," he nodded.

"They are nice," she agreed, feeling each one and nodding. "But I don't like this one…the bears look sort of psychotic."

He looked at it and nodded, "So homicidal animals are on your list of noes?"

"Let's avoid anything that could cause a lifetime of sleep disorder."

He pointed at one with clouds and ducks, and said judgmentally, "Too weak and fluffy."

"What if it's a girl?"

"So if it's a girl, you want her to be weak?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I don't really feel the need to treat her like professional wrestler either."

"That's ridiculous, Cuddy, she can't start wrestling until she can at least roll over. It would be unfair."

"You think it's a boy, don't you?"

"Nope. I don't know what it is."

"You're hoping it's a boy?"

"Not really," he answered, "I really don't care. When they're small you pretty much treat them the same with the exception of a few hygiene related issues…they really aren't that different."

He looked at Cuddy and then waited for her expression to become something other than inscrutable. "What?" he asked.

"Do you mean that?"

"Yea. I'm not taking a two year-old boy to the strip club or a two year-old girl to get her nails done. At that point, what's the difference? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I just…I don't know."

"You think I'm a sexist," he accused.

"Sometimes," she nodded.

"Why would you go out with a sexist?"

"You aren't entirely that way. You have…flashes of sexism."

"As evidenced by?"

"Three-quarters of the non-work related comments you made to me pretty much from the time you met me until we started dating."

"That wasn't sexism that was…courting. Verbal mating ritual."

"Fine," she acquiesced. "How about the fact that you had your only female fellow answering your mail and doing your filing? A doctor with the same training and experience as your other fellows…you treated her like a secretary."

"Because she had a thing for me and was so eager to please. If Foreman would have wanted me that badly, I would have had him answering my mail," he added with an indelicate glare.

"Right," she agreed doubtfully. "I don't like the one with the cars," she said as she poked at the set in question.

"Me neither. Do they have it with tiny motorcycles?"

"What about the monkeys and elephants?" she asked, unfolding one of the blankets for him to look at.

It was brightly colored and lively without being busy, and the monkeys and elephants were cartoony and friendly. It was both fun and comfortable, the perfect combination.

"Strikes a balance. The monkeys don't look ready to torture and kill the kid…or infantilize it."

"Such a shame to coddle an infant," she teased.

Once they were waiting in line to check out, she asked, "You really don't have a preference…about whether it's a boy or a girl?"

"Not much I can do about it at this point."

"That wasn't my question."

"Either one is great, Cuddy, I don't care. I'm thinking it's probably a girl."

"Why's that?"

"Because, I'm such an enlightened male I probably produce more X chromosomes than most men. I'm so deeply in touch with my feminine side…I ooze X."

* * *

The ultrasound tech led House and Cuddy back to the exam room, they went to an office outside of the hospital to avoid being the target of watchful eyes. While they waited, Cuddy opened her slacks and slid onto the table, waiting for the tech to return. She noticed House's eyes on her while she was reading some paperwork they had given her at the front desk. "Getting caught by a nineteen year-old ultrasound tech is not even remotely close to an actual fantasy for me."

He scoffed, "Like that was what I was thinking."

She looked over the paperwork, "That _is_ what you were thinking."

"No. I had no interest in getting caught."

"But you were thinking about sex?"

"Of course," he answered nonchalantly.

He got up, walked over to the space between the machine and Cuddy and lifted her shirt, shoving it up to make sure her abdomen was completely exposed. He took the paperwork from her hand and put it down next to her before grabbing the transmission gel and squirting it all over her stomach.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Lumbar puncture"

"You're such an ass."

"Well, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Just let him do it," Cuddy answered.

"I'm an actual doctor. He probably still plays with his toy doctor kit on the weekends."

House had the transducer prepped and the tech walked back in. "Sir," he complained. "Please give me that."

Putting the equipment down, House sneered, rounded the exam table, sat on the edge next to Cuddy, and gestured for the tech to continue.

"There's the heart beat," the tech said, turning up the volume as soon as he located the sound.

"No way," House began to say snidely, but then felt oddly mesmerized by the first sight of a face as it came into focus. They got their first good look at their child on the fuzzy screen in the office. There were fists twitching and movement from a being that wasn't being controlled by anyone else, autonomous, yet dependent. Cuddy had wetness welling in her eyes, the sound of a heartbeat and vision of a being that seemed, at least on cursory inspection, healthy, was the perfect recipe for joyful tears.

The tech took measurements and made notes, created stills. "Everything looks good so far," he said. "Do you want to know the gender?"

Cuddy nodded. She and House were looking at each other for a moment, sharing a few seconds of memory that would be theirs if they wanted to keep it while the tech began to search. "Well that's not good," he said.

Cuddy's head whipped around, "What's not good?"

The tech kept looking, pushing on Cuddy's stomach and moving the sensor.

"Answer the fucking question," House demanded while his eyes slid over the screen for anything worthy of concern, "What's not good?"

"Oh, sorry," the tech answered, "I just can't see very well. Your son or daughter is shy."

House looked like he was going to rip the tech into little pieces until Cuddy admonished, "You don't tell expectant parents when examining their unborn child that something doesn't look good without further explanation. What in the hell is wrong with you?"

Cuddy's knuckles were white on her clenched fists, the tendons and veins in her neck visible because of how tensely she was wired, her eyes were fiery with anger and House wondered if he had ever actually seen her that furious before. All of her concerns for the child, her fears of serious defect or miscarriage, her fear of losing what she was so close to having, spearheaded a furious response. Then House sort of chuckled and Cuddy was going to yell at him for his gross insensitivity until she saw him pointing at the display. The tech still had the transducer against her abdomen, and they could see the fetus had its fists out and was swinging furiously and it looked like its head was almost shaking just as Cuddy's was. "It looks like you," House said, amused.

He was happy to have a way to deflect her anger, to redirect her back into something that was supposed to be a pleasant moment. Cuddy's anger faded like a flash as she leaned back to allow the tech to get a better view.

"Can I have a printout of that, for the next time she's angry at me?" House asked.

Cuddy absently smacked his chest with the back of her hand, her eyes never leaving the screen.

"So…there's no problem folks," the tech said, "But I'm having trouble seeing well enough. This baby is very uncooperative."

"Just like Daddy. Now I'm gonna get all weepy," House said sarcastically as he tried to look at the screen. He grabbed the transducer from the tech and moved it around to try to get a better look.

Cuddy reached over to one side and pressed down against her belly, causing the fetus to move just a bit in response, but ultimately giving them a better view.

"That's a boy," the tech said, nodding and pointing at the screen.

Cuddy turned her head to the side while she examined the image. "Looks like it to me, but you're the expert. Are you completely sure?"

"Oh yea," the tech answered. "Ninety-nine point nine-nine percent sure."

"What do you see that's causing you one-hundredth of a percentage point's worth of doubt?" House asked.

"Nothing," the tech answered, "I'm just not allowed to say I'm one-hundred percent sure."

"Liability," Cuddy said, looking over her shoulder and shrugging at House.

"Stand by your diagnosis," House chided.

"My _diagnosis…_is that it's a boy," the tech argued.

* * *

Cuddy bought House tickets to a boxing match that night and she went with him. After he showed up at that fundraiser, she felt she wanted to offer some sort of in-kind gesture, both as a symbol of appreciation and a sign that she wanted to meet him half way. She hated it probably as much as he hated the fundraiser, but she enjoyed watching him at his event the same way he enjoyed watching her at hers. She was easy to find in the crowd, appearing more dainty and elegant there than she did normally in a delicate, black, maternity sweater and slacks. She asked him before they went in if she should buy a hoodie or something to better blend into the crowd. Much like his crooked tie and mussed up hair at the fundraiser, he told her she looked fine exactly as she was.

House was definitely having a good time. Cuddy winced with nearly every landing of a glove against firm flesh and bone. She despised the display of violence and pointless machismo. The fight was ill-matched, one boxer clearly getting pummeled while the other seemed to barely break a sweat. "Thanks," House said, after he saw her wincing yet again. "I didn't think you'd come to something like this."

She smiled gently at him. Then she turned back to the match, suddenly pointing, her mouth gaped open with shock. The weaker boxer, the one who had consistently been taking a brutal beating, dodged an overthrown punch, and then, gathering every last bit of strength, landed the most perfectly placed uppercut on his stronger opponent's jaw. The stronger boxer's head flung back, arms and legs losing their tension as they went completely slack and did nothing to prevent what followed. Almost as if in slow motion, the stronger boxer dropped to the floor, his body bouncing once before deflating into the mat. As the entire stadium seemed to gasp amid a few scattered cheers, Cuddy jumped up and screamed an emphatic, "Yes!"

She looked down at House, who was still in his seat, with the most tickled expression she had ever seen. Cuddy slowly sunk back down into her seat, smirking uncertainly at him. The guy behind House who smelled of beer, hot dogs and body odor leaned forward, "I don't know how much she had on him, but she had it at twelve-to-one. Your woman's taking home some cash!"

"Twelve-to-one. Too bad we didn't bet. Stinky was right, you'd be loaded," House said as they wound through the packed parking lot to their car.

"I'm not going to endorse senseless violence by profiting from it."

"If you make that much money off of it, is it really senseless?" he asked. "I had no idea you were so enthusiastic about a good old-fashioned knock out."

"Shut up"

"You were so completely into it."

"You know exactly what that type of trauma can do the brain!"

"You were the first one cheering for the knock out."

"Fine…I hate violence, but I have to admit…I love an underdog."

* * *

That evening when they got home, Cuddy was looking at the printouts from the ultra sound. She marveled at the development of the digits, those tiny hands and the knees she could see right there on the paper. When Cuddy looked up from the photo, and looked around the apartment, it was like a switch flipped. House was talking in the background and Cuddy stood and began pacing. "We're running out of time," she said nervously.

"For what?" he asked, confused at the shift in conversation.

"This is real," she pointed at her stomach. "We're living here in your apartment where there is clearly no room for a child. Every time I start to look at these places you don't like this…or you don't like that…but…we need a _home._"

"We'll find something," he answered casually.

"I cannot…just let this fall into place whenever. I do not want to be nine months pregnant without a nursery ready or trying to coordinate a move from the delivery room_. _I can't do that."

"Let's do this next weekend. We have…plenty…of time."

"I'm going to start nesting, House. I need some place to…nest."

"It's like the furniture. I don't care. Wherever you want."

"But you do care," she countered. "I showed you ten places in the last two weeks, and every single one of them, you've dismissed for one reason or another without even setting foot inside the properties."

He looked both disinterested and frustrated. "Fine," he answered, "You pick ten more places, and I'll…pick the ones that I find least painful, and we'll go look at two or three. OK?"

She nodded, realizing the amount of research and the time it would take to select ten more properties and feeling frustrated that she would be left to this task largely on her own. She began to reconsider finding a realtor to select the places for them because she really didn't have the time.

* * *

When House woke the next morning, Cuddy was asleep at his desk in the living room, computer glowing in front of her, real estate up on the screen. He had no interest in shopping for real estate, and he hated dealing with realtors, but he knew he couldn't sit back and leave the burden entirely on Cuddy.

At work late the next day, House called her up to his office. His fellows were gathered, parts of his old team and new, and they had printouts from several properties. Cuddy looked at the team members sitting around the table. Chase stood, offering his seat to her and even though she hesitated since it was a waste of hospital resources, she knew this was House's way of addressing her concern. Each of the doctors sitting around the table showed her the property or properties that they had selected, and tried to convince the couple that their property was the perfect one, much like they'd try to convince House that their diagnoses of patients were correct.

After the other doctors left, Cuddy and House sat and looked over their top contenders. They finally settled on a property chosen by Thirteen. She wasn't at all enthusiastic when she pitched her selection, but it was the most sensible and had a style that seemed to suit them. It also met all of the criteria he gave the team to use in their search. He didn't feel like living amongst snobs or doing yard work, and wanted space for his piano and his bike. She wanted outdoor space and something that was clean and safe for a child with a home office and closet space. Their top contender was a new, large townhome with an open, grassy common area that actually had everything on their list.

A few days later they put in a bid, and a month later they settled on the property and moved in their belongings.

* * *

At thirty-seven weeks, Cuddy was beyond pregnant. Her belly was huge and unwieldy and her joints so overly relaxed that she felt like the most uncoordinated person to ever exist. Any remaining novelty about being pregnant was long forgotten by thirty-four weeks, and at thirty-seven weeks, she was considered full term. At her regular appointment, her obstetrician told her, "Lisa, dear, you have at _least_ two more weeks. I see no sign that you're going to go any time soon."

Just because thirty-seven weeks was full term didn't mean delivery was imminent, and Cuddy had almost a month of pregnancy left before they'd seriously consider inducing. When they got home after the appointment, finally settled into their new place, she looked at House, "I'm gonna force them to induce."

"Why?" he asked. "Don't rush him. He'll show up when he's ready."

He turned to find her scowling with deep frustration. "Easy to say…when you're the guy standing next to the pregnant woman…not so easy to say when you _are_ the pregnant woman."

"True," he conceded before he sat on the sofa and waited for her.

He could see an idea dawn on her. "Even if I should wait to induce…that shouldn't stop me from trying to…_encourage_," she said as she disappeared into the next room.

He followed her out to the kitchen. "Whatcha doing?" he asked.

She was rifling through the cabinets, standing on a chair. As uncomfortable as she felt, Cuddy still seemed to do everything she had always done, pregnancy didn't seem to limit her activities much, it just seemed to make them more uncomfortable. "Not the best time to join the Flying Wallendas," House stated, walking over toward her and offering her a hand to step down.

She waved away his hand and continued her search, finding red raspberry leaf tea and dropping it on the counter. "Plenty of ways to naturally induce labor," she said.

"Old wives tales"

"Right now…I'll do what I can."

"You can drink all of the tea in the world and that kid's not coming until he's ready. Tea's not going to begin the chemical reaction that's necessary to…" House was a little scared at the resultant look. "OK," he corrected, "have some tea."

She braced one hand on his shoulder and one on the counter as she hopped down from the chair. "We'll get Thai tonight. Something with the red curry…or the green…whichever one is three-chili-peppers hot on the menu."

"Sure," he shrugged.

She was waiting impatiently for the water to boil for the tea and he said, "Why don't we agree to wait two weeks. If it doesn't work by then, we'll get them to induce…or I'll…accidentally get my hands on some Pitocin."

"I'd rather go with misoprostol. It's more effective, less chance of rupture."

"You _must_ be miserable…no lecture on appropriate behavior…no stern warnings about what you'll do to me if I _borrow_ some meds from the hospital?"

"I'm ready to have this kid. But I'm not going to need you to steal anything. I'm still going to talk my OB into whatever I need. I know how to get what I want."

"Agreed. Don't rush the kid…he'd be nuts to want to leave, give him the two weeks to ripen."

"Urgh," she answered, "Fine, whatever, but I'm still going to do what I can. After dinner, let's go for a walk."

"You know I've actually gotten thinner during your pregnancy because of all of the walking."

"You're lucky I'm a reasonable woman," she said. "Do you have any idea how many pregnant woman would castrate their partners for saying something like that when they're carrying around all of this…baby?"

The kettle began to rumble on the stove and Cuddy pulled it off of the burner, dropping the tea in to steep. "Now we wait for this too. I'm tired of waiting," she said, a woman clearly focused and on a mission. "What should we do?"

He dug in his back pocket, "I have the results of the naming project for your review," he said as he pulled a pile of folded papers from his back pocket.

"What naming project?"

"I had my team gather some names and do some light polling."

"At work?"

"We were waiting for tests, ignore the hows and appreciate the results."

She looked at the list for a second, then put it down on the kitchen table. "Or we can have sex," she said, calmly stepping forward and pulling at his shirt.

"What?" he chuckled. "Right now?"

"Yup," she responded, her fingers tickling along his sides, her nails gently scratching at his nipple.

"I knew you liked prepared organization…I didn't know how much. What will you do for me if I hire you a guy to come in and build that custom closet organizer thing you want?"

"What would I do for _you_?" she asked as her hands continued to slip along the skin of his chest and down to his abdomen.

"Yea," he leered as he began to lift her shirt.

"He's building the closet, he's doing the work…so I guess I'd have sex with him," she countered.

"Point taken…so it's more of a DIY thing," House snickered. "I would have embraced organization long ago if I knew how much it turned you on."

"The organization did not turn me on," she said as she unclasped her bra more gingerly than normal and tossed it on the table, warning, "gently…" just as his hands reached for her breasts.

"So, it's just my own inherent irresistibility?" he questioned while she dropped his jeans on the kitchen floor and he stepped out of them.

"Obviously," she answered. "And or…sex encourages labor. The tea isn't ready, I'm not hungry enough to eat spicy food yet and I'm tired of waiting for everything. So…I figure you can keep having sex with me until I go into labor."

"See, while that sounds like fun, at some point it's not going to be fun anymore."

"Not _constantly_. There are other biological needs that will need to be met. In between meeting those needs…and working…we can have sex."

"You know you can't just expect me to instantly be turned on whenever you…"

He paused as she grabbed him, both hands on his already partially aroused sex as she manipulated his body in the ways she knew were most likely to get a response. His hands hung to the side, mouth opened slightly, and his expression lax.

"I can't just expect what, House?" she teased as she coaxed his body.

"I don't know," he said with a tiny accepting smile. "I was," he sighed, "probably just…saying something stupid. Go on."

"I said I know how to get what I want."

"Someday I'll get tired of you using me for my body," he teased.

"Well…when that day comes, you let me know," she smirked.

"You…are so fucking perfect."

She snarled her lip playfully and pushed him down into a kitchen chair. As she bent down to kiss him, leaning uncomfortably over her belly, she was reminded of how sex was so much more complicated than it used to be. He could sense her frustration mounting already as she was considering what couldn't be done. She wanted to easily slip onto his lap, crushing her breasts into his chest while she kissed him as she remained perched on his lap. She wasn't even sure if she could fit on his lap anymore while facing him. She was dealing in the details already, thinking logistics, making a plan to get to where she needed to be.

House took her face in his hands, and asked with a tease in his voice, "Do we have to get this over with as quickly as possible, or is it OK for it to be fun too?"

"You aren't having fun?" she asked, somewhat offended.

"Of course I am, but half of my fun is your fun, and you…do not look like you're having fun. We have all evening," he tempted, "Soon, our evenings will be a lot busier. It won't just be you and I sitting around…sexin' each other up anymore."

He took her hand and led her into the living room, helping her strip out of her few remaining clothes and relax into a chair. In moments he was dragging her hips down over the ottoman so he could lazily taste her, trying to help her forget for a moment that she was uncomfortable and stuck waiting for something that she was tired of waiting for. Their quick, down-to-business fuck turned into something entirely different. A night like those they had early on where they'd touch each other just because they could. Where they'd nibble and tease, writhe and moan, and then after something to eat or a short nap, decide that was exactly what they wanted to do again.

After battling his own insecurities with his leg, he was remarkably considerate of her insecurities, while making it look like he wasn't trying to be considerate of her insecurities, because she would have seen that as patronizing. He always selected positions that he knew were easier for her while trying to make them sound selfish, and he'd compliment with only the most genuine of compliments, because he truly believed she could see when he wasn't being honest.

He would compliment her fuller breasts and rounder hips and ass because he did think they were beautiful, rather than try to convince her that her belly wasn't huge or that she hadn't changed. She knew well, her belly was huge, particularly in comparison to the rest of her. Since he was so genuine in his admiration, she actually believed him. He also never ceased or reduced the number of objectifying, flattering and innuendo-filled comments that he bestowed on her, and as much as she pretended to protest, she'd smirk her appreciation. The number of disapproving words and glances he received from people all around the hospital tripled. As much as she felt uncomfortable, uncoordinated and unwieldy, she still felt beautiful.

He convinced Cuddy to take the next day off, one more day, like a short honeymoon before the birth of their son. The distraction and fun, the reminders of their feelings for each other, were exactly what she needed. She forgot that she was desperate to be done with the pregnancy and enjoyed their last moments alone.

They appreciated each other's bodies, soaked in a warm bath to relieve the pressure on her back, and ate the foods they loved to eat, the moment was like a suspension in time.

The next morning, when they went back to work, she was refreshed and at ease, and completely forgot about the fact that everything they had been doing over the last two days was thought to aid in inducing labor.


	5. Completing the Puzzle

_A/N-Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter: IHeartHouseCuddy, MsStevieCooper, JLCH, housebound, MegaHouseFan, Minkia, ikissedtheLaurie, Boo's House, iridescentZEN, jkarr, truth, devonfc, Suzieqlondon, Abby, Little Greg, TFJ, Alex, HuddyGirl, Sarah C and the Guest reviewers._

_Here's the final piece of this fluffy story. Thank you so much to all of you!_

* * *

-Completing the Puzzle-

**painstaking** - characterized by extreme care and great effort;

* * *

It was time for the quarterly board meeting at the hospital. They were arduous, day-long meetings, where the board and staff discussed major changes, plans for the future and each department head presented a report of their successes and goals. Cuddy was sitting in the board meeting, discussing changes in HR policy, when Wilson began to notice that she was occasionally wincing, almost imperceptibly, and then her breath would catch. Although she wasn't one for rubbing her belly while at work, he did notice that she had one arm sort of slung around it under the table. Foreman was at the meeting to present the Diagnostics Department report, because House wasn't about to show up for a board meeting, and since he was usually belligerent when he was there, Cuddy was glad he didn't often attend.

As HR was giving its report, Wilson leaned over, "Cuddy, are you alright?"

"Of course," she answered calmly without looking at him. Her focus remained on the presenter while her fingers twirled a pen. Although her face was stoic, her eyes looked a bit weary.

Cuddy's mild winces seemed to increase in frequency over the subsequent hour, and Wilson noticed that Cuddy was glancing down at her watch, so he began to time the space between winces as well. Every five to five-and-a-half minutes, Cuddy was wincing, taking purposeful breaths, and glancing at her watch. During a break, Wilson followed her when she walked.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" he asked with probing concern.

"Yes, Wilson," she sighed, sounding immediately irritated.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

Cuddy stopped walking, turned and looked at Wilson, and said, "Whatever it is that you think he did, I don't know about it."

"Who?"

"House. I'm guessing that, since you are following me and asking if I want to talk, you think I must be mad at House for some reason. You _think_ he did something wrong, or _know_ he did something wrong. Unless something is burning, someone is currently dying a preventable death, or there is a deadly bacteria or virus running rampant through my hospital, I'll wait and deal with whatever the problem is later."

"No, not at all. There isn't a problem. You just seem…"

"What?" she asked in her testiest voice.

"Are you sure you're feeling OK?"

Cuddy put on her fake, stiff-lipped smile that exuded irritation until Wilson surrendered and walked away.

House was immediately suspicious that Wilson was trying to get him to attend the meeting. After some convincing, he dragged House down to where everyone was gathered for refreshments during the break.

"Trust me," Wilson asked, "just watch her, I think she's actually in labor."

"Cuddy is both a doctor…and a woman…and the person who is pregnant. I'm really sure she'd know if she was in labor before you would," House said as he rolled his eyes.

As soon as he was finished with his statement, House saw the suspicious behavior Wilson was talking about, and paid attention to Cuddy's actions. House began to time the space between suspicious behaviors. Cuddy was adept at keeping her personal life and pains secret, but she couldn't entirely hide the reactions of her body. House watched while she continued to talk to department heads and carry on with her work, barely letting on that there was a problem, but periodically he could see the wince as Wilson described it, and it seemed her fingertips would find a wall or table in search of some sort of supportive reassurance for her body. These reactions were four-and-a-half minutes apart. It was the first baby, and often first time mothers have longer labors, but four-and-a-half minutes apart was definitely the time to leave the meeting and call the obstetrician. House walked over to where she was pouring a glass of ice water. "Time to leave the meeting, Cuddy," he said insistently, his fingers tapping the back of her arm.

"We have five more hours of material to cover at the very least," she smiled as if nothing was wrong. She seemed lost in a professional, dutiful haze.

"Should we talk about your symptoms?"

"I can't play doctor right now," she said softly.

"That is definitely not what I am talking about. I can feel your contractions from over there. So I'm reasonably sure that you can feel them. Four-and-a-half minutes is definitely time to leave the board meeting."

Cuddy began to deny and then looked up at him, her eyes wide, "I'm…not ready."

His laugh sounded like a surprised scoff and he whispered, "Two days ago, you were ready to do anything to be done. Tea, spicy food, sex, walking…talk of stealing labor inducing drugs…remember?"

"I remember. But now, I'm not ready," she repeated, almost automatically, as if she had some power of influence over the timing of what was about to occur.

"You…are definitely ready. We have a home, a crib, some…baby stuff pretty much everywhere. The father's even sort of ready…and odds were that the father would never be ready. So trust me, _you _are ready."

"You really think I'm ready?"

"You are." House leaned in and added quietly, "But, Cuddy…ready or not…it's time to go."

She nodded. There was one more brief moment of hesitation, like that second before skydiving, when a person wonders if they're really ready for the fall and whatever may come from it. The second she moved beyond that second's hesitation, she was a woman determined. Stepping out of her haze, she walked into the board meeting, stood at the front of the room, and said, calmly, fingertips pressed down on the surface of the table, "I'm going to begin my maternity leave now."

"Already?" the head of HR asked. "We…were under the impression that you were going to work until the baby is born."

"This is true. Or mostly true. I'm in labor…so soon."

The entire table, except for Wilson, looked startled, no one else noticed that there was anything different about her, and she made that announcement like she'd made so many others, with complete professionalism. "If there's anything else that you feel needs taken care of before I go on leave, speak now," she ordered.

Those around the table all shook their heads, and Cuddy spoke to her temporary replacement to turn over the reins officially before walking coolly out of the room.

* * *

The excitement and drama of labor wasn't anything like it was so often made out to be. After the initial rush to get Cuddy admitted to the hospital, get IVs started and monitors in place, there was a lot of waiting. When the anesthesiologist walked into the room to ask about pain management, Cuddy resolutely sent the woman away.

"Why…would you do that?" House asked.

"I don't want drugs," she said calmly. "We've discussed this. I can handle this."

"That's a bad idea. That's a dumb idea. I don't like this…idea…at all."

"I can do it"

"I know you _can. _I _can_ dig a hole with my bare hands too…but why when I can use a shovel instead?"

"My mother had completely natural childbirth."

"Your mother is incapable of feeling the sensation we humans describe as pain."

Cuddy laughed, she seemed more at ease once she accepted that she was indeed in labor. She put a hand on his arm and said, "I can do this."

"I know _you_ can," he answered softly.

* * *

The next three hours involved steady but only moderately intense contractions. Later, as labor became more intense, House helped her get a shower, let the hot water pelt on her back, and he felt an odd kinship, remembering the number of times he had hoped hot water would ease his own pain. He was quiet nearly the entire time she was in labor. Looking back, Cuddy would recollect that he said fewer than one-hundred words in her presence the entire time she was in labor. Of course she didn't have much to say either. For all of their easy banter in the recent months, when things got tough, they resorted to more stoic behavior and perfunctory conversation.

When her pain got worse, he was nearly certain he couldn't handle it. He felt her pain to such an extent that he considered very seriously, for the first time in ages, trying to find a bottle of Vicodin and downing at least two or three pills upon acquisition to numb the ache. Cuddy didn't scream dramatically, beg for an end to the suffering or warn him to never touch her again. She was so focused and determined, understanding that the solution to her ache involved a journey that was inherently somewhat painful. When Wilson came to take House to eat, Cuddy insisted that he go.

House made it to the hallway outside of her room and leaned against the glass wall, looking around. He seemed as defeated and exhausted and pained as Wilson had ever thought he'd seen him.

"This is a mistake," House mumbled into the air.

"Just cold feet, my friend," Wilson said, "You can't decide now that you don't want the baby…or Cuddy…whatever it is that you're doubting…"

"Not _them_," House snapped, "the fucking…natural childbirth is a mistake."

"Oh," Wilson nodded. "Her decision."

"Yea," House said, frustrated that he couldn't convince Cuddy otherwise.

"She's doing great," Wilson said, "she's tough."

"I know," House said softly.

"You have to eat. She'll be fine for ten minutes."

"Not hungry"

"You're doing worse than she is!" Wilson teased.

House sighed again, looked at Wilson and said, "Bring me whatever energy drink you can find in the cafeteria." And then he returned to Cuddy's room.

"Go eat," Cuddy insisted.

"You can't eat," he answered.

She poked at the IV tube and joked, "Fast food."

As much as she tried to convince him, he wouldn't leave. Her desire for that child far outweighed any necessary obstacles, she wanted that baby. And after ten hours of labor, not too bad for a first child, Benjamin was born. He was healthy and screaming and just a tiny bit over seven pounds. He had the same baby-grey eyes that nearly all babies have at birth, and wispy brown hair. While the pediatrician gave the child his initial evaluation on a table next to them, House whispered, "You are seriously the toughest person I have ever met."

The look of relief was obvious on both of their faces the moment the pediatrician handed the tightly wrapped baby to Cuddy. She held the child close, softly cradling his tiny head in her opened hand. "I can't believe this is happening," she said.

House looked back and forth between the two and said simply, "Me neither."

Cuddy scooted over a bit so House could sit next to her and she lifted the baby up so she could rest her cheek against his forehead and hug him to her. House would later say that as soon as Ben was in position against Cuddy, wrapped in a blanket and covered in "Momming," he could take his first truly comfy nap.

After holding her baby for quite a while, Cuddy looked startled and said, "God, House, I'm sorry, do you want to hold him?"

"Nah," House said loudly enough that the baby woke up.

Cuddy looked concerned for a second until she saw the small smirk on House's face.

"Well," House began sarcastically, "If you're going to force me…"

House looked at his son with interest when he saw the child squint toward the sound of a familiar voice. House bent his long legs and propped the baby up on them so they could speak face to face. "You've been a great inconvenience to your mother so far…and I had to give up my apartment because of you," he said in a teasing voice, "but you're here, and we decided we want to keep you."

Cuddy reached out, "Give him to me if you're going to be a jerk," she said, giggling a bit.

"Wait," House said, "this is important. He has to know that it wasn't all wine and roses getting him here."

"There were never roses, House."

House tilted his head matter-of-factly, "Who needs roses when they have me? Anyway, back to my talk with my son. Where was I…you're here, so we want to keep you. You…will likely spend most of your life feeling humiliated by us…and with good reason. But when times get bad…we have your back."

Cuddy smiled as she watched him, the affection in House's eyes spoke volumes his words never could. She put her head back, trying to rest for a moment, and she began drifting close to sleep when she heard House whisper, "Let me tell you the story of how you arrived."

Cuddy lay still, listening, hoping that House would think she was asleep. "Once upon a time…I have to start that way, I don't want to fuck up my first bedtime story…OK …forget the 'fuck' part. Remember the 'Once upon a time' part. Let's just…forget protocol and accept the fact that I'm never going to do anything normally, you might as well accept that now…I'm no good with that and why start off this whole thing with lies. Everybody lies…yes…I know, I can already see you throwing that in my face. The deal is that your mother…wanted you really badly. I'm talking about epic want. Every kid deserves to be wanted as badly as you were…so you should appreciate that. I can say, without a doubt, that you and I are the two luckiest guys on the planet…ever. I'm glad that you'll never know how lonely she was without you…because it sucks to see. And you'll never know how alone I was before her…hopefully…unless I screw it up with her, which is always possible. Your mom and I don't give up on the people we like…not easily anyway. And we can overlook some pretty big screw-ups…your mom has a lot of practice with that…let me tell you now…don't play near the MRI machine…she takes that one very personally. And there are things that…I could have held against her, and I'm glad I didn't…because whether you agree with what she does or not…she does things because she thinks they are the right thing to do…ironically, that is why I do things too, and often we disagree about what the right thing is. She sort of rules this place…she's in charge. I was going to work that into the whole…once upon a time thing, but it's easier for me to just talk. She runs this place. Power looks really good on her. I am sort of a…court jester-villain-hot mad scientist…funny, nefarious, brilliant…I'm her…adversary, love interest and greatest ally…all rolled up in one shaggy, irresistible man. I'm sure you see how this could cause some understandable complications in our relationship. That makes you…the heir apparent to this sterile, antiseptic-covered kingdom. For some reason, I think hanging out with you is going to lead me down the path to tons of diagnoses…you'll be helping to solve huge puzzles before you're diaper free. Not many kids can say that. We'll do our best with you…that I can guarantee. I can also guarantee we're going to screw up. The upside of that is…you're going to screw up…and we're already adept at accepting people's screw-ups …so in a way, even our own dysfunction is to your benefit. If you're mad and you need someone to take it out on…pick me. I can take it. Do your best not to break your mother's heart…because…that is the one thing that will be hard for me to take."

Ben yawned, it seemed his yawn was bigger than his face.

"Well," House continued, "We got into some pretty serious stuff…I don't think I screwed up anything too badly. I like you, I think we'll have fun."

After a nap on a convertible chair next to Cuddy's bed, House woke to find an extremely happy pair. Ben's eyes were open but unfocused, and he held Cuddy's narrow finger in his fist as he nestled against her breast. She was whispering to him with a completely contented smile on her face. She was learning everything about him, and he was learning everything about her. He could hear Cuddy as she whispered soft words of love.

"You look like you've been _momming_ for years," House whispered through a voice that hadn't woken up yet.

"Momming?"

"Yes. Momming."

"I'm still new at it," she smiled.

"I'd never know."

"Thank you for this," she said intensely. "Thank you for our son."

"My contributions to this were more fun than yours."

"You looked like you were having a _blast_ earlier today when I was in labor. Time of your life."

House looked away, completely disconnected from her.

"What?" she asked. "Did I…say something?"

"We started this…so we wouldn't hurt. And yet today…"

"A small price to pay for what I have now," she assured.

"Are you OK?" he asked with concern in his eyes.

"We're doing fine," she answered, gently kissing House's lips before turning back to her child.

He looked at his son, then back at her and said, "How's the pain?"

She chuckled as her finger ran along the side of the baby's face to his chin, "What pain?"

* * *

-Epilogue-

House was entirely distracted by his concern. The moment Natalie Soellnar arrived at the hospital, Cuddy became a woman devoted to her care. He warned Cuddy that it was because she was a mother, that she was too close to this case and couldn't stay objective, but she refused to quit the case or give up on finding a diagnosis. During the previous few days, he would almost constantly ask himself why she was so hung up on this particular case. They were fighting at work in ways they hadn't in ages.

Only a few moments earlier, they were arguing yet again, the new norm since she began working on the case, leaning over both sides of the desk, neither budging in their resolve. Cuddy began listing the symptoms angrily, filled with the frustration of someone missing an answer they desperately wanted, a piece to the puzzle that she simply couldn't quite grasp to fit into place. Then her eyes drifted closed as the answer settled upon her and became clear. "Oh my god," sighed listing the symptoms more slowly before coming to the obvious conclusion, "It's eclampsia."

Cuddy went back to the patient to confirm what she already knew. House went to the daycare, got their son, and the two of them went back to his office to wait. When Cuddy bound back into the room, determined and ready to act, she found House sitting behind his desk, feet up, and reading an article on emerging auto-immune diseases aloud while his son played on his lap. Cuddy scooped the boy up and began to dress him to go outside in the cold. "There's something I need to do. Can you drive me downtown?" she asked.

* * *

That night, Cuddy stood over the bassinet at the hospital staring down at the little girl she rescued earlier in the day. House walked in, carrying the peacefully sleeping Ben. Cuddy reached out, took her son and held him close to her. There is nothing like an abandoned or sick child to remind a mother of how much she cherishes her own children.

She looked up at House with pleading eyes, "House, she's been through so much. The grandparents don't want her, they said it's too painful. She's being put into foster care."

He understood exactly what she was suggesting.

"I know it's a lot since Ben is so young…but we could do it," Cuddy said, looking at the infant and then back at House.

He looked down into the bassinet, and then at the needful yet determined look on Cuddy's face. After walking around the bassinet, he touched the back of the infant girl's hand with the tip of his index finger. He nodded and smiled, "Yea, we could do it."

With one arm she held her son tightly to her chest, her other hand rested on the girl's belly reassuringly. Ben lifted his head as he woke, and Cuddy whispered to him, "Ben…I want you to meet Rachel."


End file.
